


Knight of Passion

by Level4Chaos



Series: KoP [1]
Category: Bakuten Shoot Beyblade
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Class Differences, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, English Dub Names, Eventual Romance, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Masturbation, Minor Original Character(s), Oral Sex, POV Third Person Omniscient, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-05 09:04:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 29,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15860511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Level4Chaos/pseuds/Level4Chaos
Summary: There is a heart under Robert's cold exterior, and it takes an unrefined, obnoxious jock to find it. A relationship as bizarre as this can only be true love, despite what Johnny has to say about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING:** This fanfic contains gay sex scenes, homophobia, class discrimination, and a hypothetical domestic violence reference.
> 
>  **DISCLAIMER:** With the exception of Robert's aunt and uncle, the characters and places in this fanfic are not mine! I assure you they will be returned to their rightful places in perfect condition - and I will have made no money from their adventures! This story is a work of fiction, and I acknowledge that I have taken uncountable liberties with the Beyblade plot and characters' personalities / sexual persuasions. In no way do I mean the characters, or their creators, any harm or disrespect; I write this purely to show my love for the anime in my own special way - nothing more, nothing less.
> 
>  **AUTHOR'S NOTES:** I wrote this fic when I was _really_ unwell in 2003~2004, and in my delirium, the ridiculous pairing made complete sense. I hope you won't be too weirded out!
> 
>  **BONUS!:** I'm better at writing than drawing, but [here's my fanart to accompany this fic](https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=30046195).

_Claws locked together in a fierce battle; sharp beaks lashed out, biting and pecking, as giant glowing wings flapped in the confines of an otherwise dark alleyway._

The first thing he was aware of as he awoke was how sore his head was. It must have been quite a party last night... although he couldn't remember any of it. He was sure by the level of throbbing in his temples, that he and his fellow bladers must have had a great time celebrating Tyson's spectacular victory over Tala. He groaned in pain. The more awake he was, the more it seemed to hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.

The second thing he noticed was the silky sheets enveloping his body and the mountain of rich, tapestry pillows around his head... the complete opposite of his own bed. He'd woken up in strange places with even stranger people in his arms before, but never anywhere quite like this.

A hotel room, perhaps? With expensive sheets like the ones that caressed his bare legs, it would have to be the penthouse suite, for sure. He didn't remember _how_ he came to be in this place, and right now, it didn't matter. He snuggled up into the warmth and willed himself to go back to sleep.

No more tournaments meant no more training - for a little while anyway. So unless he got a phone call from Judy telling him to get his lazy butt down to the training room, he wasn't going _anywhere_. Sure, Trygle would probably be miffed, but he'd fix that with a couple of spectacular victories over the new students later. The bird was easy to please like that.

"Damn it..." He muttered, realising that if he didn't know where he himself was, chances were he had no idea where he had left Trygle either - and he could just imagine the type of fight he would get out of it if he didn't at least _attempt_ to find it. Firstly though, he would be stumbling down to the hotel's nurse and getting a couple of PPB-approved headache tablets. Trygle had waited this long, it could wait another few minutes.

Michael stretched out his muscular arms, letting the bones within crackle with relief, and shakily propped himself up on his elbows. Looking around the room, he was even more confused than before. He was lying in a magnificent four-poster bed; hand-carved, by the look of it, out of fine cherry wood; the ornate poles ran up to a canopy, draped in plush red velvet at the corners and shimmering gossamer down the sides - which put the surrounding room in a dreamy soft-focus. No one Michael knew had tastes _that_ expensive.

He blinked a couple of times, not only to take in the hazy room which seemed to be furnished with equally as fine matching pieces, but also to try and recall what exactly he had been drinking the previous night. It must have been good. _Really_ good. And whatever it was, it was fast deciding to make itself known. He gave a violent cough, slapping his hands over his mouth to stop the desecration of the sheets pooled in his lap.

He laid back down, no longer caring about his location or Trygle's, but simply feeling terribly ill.  
"Eddy, I swear, if this is your idea of a joke..."

But Eddy was across the ocean, back in America - and had been so for the past two weeks.

Presently he, Emily and Steven were anxiously awaiting Judy's report on Michael's condition. The blonde woman stood with her back to the three, with her cell phone pressed tightly to her ear.

"When will he be able to travel?" She asked, trying not to sound too concerned, but failing.  
_"He has not even regained consciousness. I should not imagine he will be well enough to travel for quite some time."_  
"That's unacceptable! I need him back here as soon as possible."  
_"I assure you, my personal physicians are doing everything they can for him."_  
"Obviously, they're not doing enough. The longer he is away from his training, the sloppier his game is going to be. He needs to get back here - and soon!"

The three remaining All Starz looked at each other, worried. When Judy wasn't talking to her son and his well-wishing friends in Asia, she was trying to get as much information as possible out of Sir Robert, who (since Michael was obviously not in any condition to make the trip from Russia to America) had kindly offered to have her star athlete whisked away to his German residence in his private jet, to be attended by his elite medical staff.

Michael had gone for a walk around Moscow alone, to check out the local sports grounds (and do a bit of showing off while he was there) before heading back home the next day. When he didn't return to the hotel that evening, Judy and the others had gone out looking for him.

Reports of screaming Bit Beasts in the back streets lead them to Michael's wounded and unconscious body. He had taken his thermal jacket off, presumably to battle, and he was covered in a light layer of snow - meaning he had been out there for quite some time. His clothes were battered and torn, and his bare skin was laced with strings of blood-crystals.

"Michael!" Judy ran to the boy, kneeling beside him and hugging him to her pounding heart. His breath was so shallow and his skin was like ice, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered. "Michael... don't you dare die on me."

Emily had been prepared enough to bring a blanket, just in case this very scenario occurred. She wrapped it around him, as Steven, being the strongest, lifted his captain's frozen form into his arms.

Judy narrowed her eyes at the wounds on the boy's face, arms and legs - deep claw marks. Could Trygle have turned on its master? Or was it something more sinister? He bore all the marks of an attack from the Demolition Boys and their ruthless Bit Beasts, but Trygle was still strangely present in his blade, so until he woke up, no one could be certain _what_ had happened to him.

"Judy, I'm worried!" Emily was panicking. "We have to get him to a hospital!"  
The blonde woman remained calm, despite her own panic inside. Having heard the horror stories of the Bladebreaker Ray's experience, the hospitals were over-crowded and immediate attention was almost unheard of. She ordered her team to return to the hotel and get Michael warm - there was very little else they could do for him until she could get in contact with the PPB and organise a private doctor.

As she picked up Michael's discarded jacket, cap, and Beyblade, she couldn't help wondering again if this had been all of Trygle's doing. What would have made her perfect eagle specimen do such a thing? She slipped the finned orange plastic into her pocket, planning to disassemble it and check its programming as soon as they got back to the research facility in America.

The other teams had heard about Michael's disappearance, and as the All Starz hurried back with him, they were accosted by several members of the Bladebreakers, White Tigers and Majestics - all wanting to know what they could do to help.

Nothing. No one knew what had happened to him, and no one knew how long he had been out in the snow for.

The Bladebreakers offered to call the hospital Ray had been staying at to see if they had any room; the White Tigers offered to put together a traditional herbal remedy; and it was then that the Majestic, Robert, had made the offer Judy accepted.

It had caused more problems than she had ever imagined it would. Robert was strict and stubborn. Everything he did was governed by an unwavering code of honour - and right now, that honour was keeping her star athlete across the other side of the world, and away from his training.

 _"With all due respect, my Lady, I do not think you understand the seriousness of his wounds."_  
"Are you saying I don't care about the well-being of my team?"  
_"I must go. Something has happened."_  
"What? Is it Michael? Don't hang up on me! Robert!"

There was no answer. Judy turned around, pocketing her phone and clasping her hands together.  
"What's happening?" Emily practically yelled.  
"I don't know..."  
"He's going to be okay though, isn't he?"

"He's going to hate Robert, that's for sure." She muttered, giving no further information as she retreated back into her laboratory, leaving the All Starz no wiser for having listened to her side of the phone call.

Trygle's tests had all returned negative the previous week. There was nothing wrong with it... no reason why it would have attacked its master. The data was perfect; every line of code, flawless.

Judy was more than certain that Michael had regained consciousness, and Trygle needed to be with him. _He_ needed to be with Trygle...


	2. Chapter 2

"He has awoken?" Robert asked for confirmation of the news that had cut his phone call short.  
"Yes, Sire." The servant answered as he hurried after his master, down several long corridors to the guest sleeping quarters. "Just a few minutes ago."  
"Have my physicians been notified?"  
"Of course, my Lord."  
With a deep bow, the servant opened the door to Michael's room and closed it after Robert had stepped inside.

"How are you feeling?" The master of the castle asked the quivering mass of cream and burgundy behind the gossamer veil.  
"Like shit." Michael groaned in reply, not knowing, nor caring who he was talking to.

If possible, Robert's naturally wide eyes widened even more at the use of such unrefined language in his castle.  
"I see..." He said, more to calm himself down than to agree with the brash American.

Michael squinted at his company. "Robert?"  
He had only been introduced to the Majestics briefly before the final match at the Russian tournament, and surprised himself that he could recall their strange-looking captain's name. He would certainly never forget his face.

One could tell, simply by looking at the way Robert presented himself, that he was incredibly wealthy. He wasn't just some spoilt, rich kid like the other members of his team; he had all the dignity and grace of a great king from medieval times. His face was smooth and angular, like it had been carved from stone - and his lack of expression only added to it.

"Where am I?"  
"You are a guest at my home, and while you are here, my staff have been given instructions to obey your every order."  
"Thanks... I guess." Michael was even more puzzled than before. Yes, he had been so drunk at some parties that he sometimes wound up in a different suburb the next morning, but he had never woken up in a different country! "I know this is going to seem like a stupid question, but what am I doing here?"  
"I will let my physicians explain that to you." Robert answered simply, before changing the subject. "I have had your clothes cleaned and pressed. Those that could not be repaired, I have had re-made for you. I will have someone bring them up, and if you require any assistance, please do not hesitate to ask."

Not only was he confused, but Michael was now very uncomfortable with the premise of someone dressing him. He did not even want to think about _how_ he came to need being dressed in the first place. He eyed Robert suspiciously, but the nobleman's standard expression of bored surprise never changed.  
He didn't have anything to be ashamed of, it was quite the contrary - his body was in fantastic shape and the envy of many; he just didn't like the idea of being stripped and having no recollection of it.

He only had a moment alone to dwell on the situation, before a pretty young chambermaid brought his perfectly folded clothes to him. Looking her up and down appreciatively, for the first time since he had woken up, he was glad to be in this bizarre situation.  
"Your clothes, Sir." She parted the curtains at the side of his bed, and curtsied as she placed his belongings beside him.  
"Thanks." He flashed her one of his trademark grins, and winked.  
The girl smiled back politely. "Will there be anything else, Sir?"  
"Yeah, I think I'm going to need help putting these on." He raised an eyebrow and the girl nodded. Her master had been right - his guest _was_ obnoxious.

* * * * *

Robert met with his doctors after they had finished examining the patient. The report was promising, and with any luck, Michael would be out of his house _very_ soon. They warned that he was not allowed to undertake anything strenuous, like running or sports of any kind. Gentle walks would be all until the stitches were taken out of his deeper cuts.

"I see they have removed your bandages." Robert greeted Michael, who was studying the scars on his arms.  
"I know what you're thinking, and I'm _telling_ you - Trygle wouldn't hurt me!"  
"I agree with you. I do not believe that a creature as noble as the mighty Trygle would do anything like that either. As you should know, a griffin is part eagle, and it is that very part which makes my Griffolyon the loyal Bit Beast that it is."

"So, now that I'm full of pain-killers, I have to play something..." Michael changed the subject. "I'm going to go mad if I don't go outside and slug a couple of balls soon."  
"You will not have the strength to play any sport for a while yet."  
"Look, I'd even settle for a nice, low-impact game of... I don't know... _croquet_!"  
"No sport!"  
"You're killing me, Robert." He sighed in defeat. "I hope you realise that."  
"It is not sport, but perhaps you would like to take a walk around the castle gardens with me instead?"  
The baseball star gave a weak smile. "I guess I'd like that."

The purple-haired nobleman huddled in close to Michael, slinging his arm around his shoulders and helping him to stand. Michael's balance had been thrown off by his weeks in bed, and his first step was more of a stumble than anything else. His other hand grabbed for Robert's chest to steady himself, and the knight quickly wrapped his arm around Michael's waist for even more support.

"This is not going to be as easy as I had planned." He observed with amusement in his aristocratic voice.  
Michael gave a sad laugh. He, a world-class athlete, was reduced to hugging someone just so he could stand up. It was too much. He felt so pathetic, and he didn't want to add to it by crying over his loss in front of Robert, but he couldn't help it. He felt like his body had betrayed him.

"I'm sorry." He sniffled. "I'm not usually like this."  
Comforting someone was a completely alien feeling to the proud knight, but he had recently been taught the value of teamwork and friendship, and was open to new emotional experiences. He drew the shorter boy into an embrace, bowing his face into his wine-coloured hair.  
"You just have to take things slowly. It will be all right."  
"It doesn't seem like it." Michael wrapped his arms tightly around Robert's waist, sobbing into his chest. "You don't understand how much baseball means to me... if I can't play, I've got nothing."  
"You have me." Robert assured him, and Michael was surprised how much it helped to know that.

They stood with their arms around each other, looking more like lovers than the fierce competitors they would have been, had they been together under different circumstances. Robert ran his hand through Michael's hair; strong, comforting; like a father taking care of his injured son.

Michael's parents had died when he was too young to understand he had lost something very precious. Having been adopted by the PPB for use in their research, he had never known the breed of intimacy Robert was sharing with him - and it scared and fascinated him all at once.

Not that Robert was any more familiar with expressing the feeling. But he had been fortunate enough to have had a kind father and a loving mother, and it was not below their genteel constitution to show their son appropriate affection.

Michael didn't want the moment to end. For the first time in his life, he felt like someone actually cared about _him_ \- not his athletic talent, his looks, or his fame. He was being held by such strong arms, not because Robert wanted something from him, but because he _didn't_ want him to hurt any more.

"I have never seen a baseball game." Robert finally broke the silence. "So when you have completely recovered - _and not a moment before_ \- I would be honoured to watch you play."  
"You would?" The shorter boy looked up at him, his blue eyes brimming with happiness and hope.  
"My word as my bond, I will be there."

Robert limped Michael around a small, particularly beautiful portion of his castle's extensive garden. Michael had never been one for admiring flowers, but he could certainly appreciate beauty when he saw it. He had nothing else to do... there was nothing else he _could_ do, even if he wanted to. For once, he wasn't thinking about sport, he was content to enjoy his time in Robert's company.

The knight was not much for conversation - his words were always carefully thought out before they left his mouth, so he never said any more than he had to. He was, however, a wonderful guide, telling Michael tales of the Jürgens' colourful history - how long the castle had taken to build; the crests and patterns the gardens made when looked upon from above; and how his family had fought off enemies centuries ago on the very ground they stood on now.

He never spoke of himself, almost as if he were ashamed to. If Michael asked, he would dismiss the question and start talking about Griffolyon, or Trygle - to try and coax the conversation's lead over to Michael, who would never say no to talking about himself.

Robert listened to the most of it, despite his dislike for the American's bastardisation of the English language. There were only so many times he could listen to 'like' or 'you know' thrown into the middle of a sentence; and being referred to as 'dude' made him physically cringe. But the boy was friendly enough. He reminded him a lot of Johnny - his arrogance, and the way he spoke about what he loved with such passion and conviction... only without the smart mouth.

As Robert endured the company of the obnoxious Scottish knight, he had often wished he would settle down and mature a bit. He would have to be a lot nicer to Johnny in the future, if the boy had the potential to turn out like _this_. Michael rattled on and on about some fantastic home-run he'd hit recently, unaware of Robert's ever so slight smile at his inner comparison.

If he could be friends with the likes of Johnny, he could certainly make friends with Michael. He felt as if he had known him for a very long time already.


	3. Chapter 3

Gustav was loath to disturb his master and his guest during their breakfast the following morning, but the package from America, covered in 'PPB' and 'Urgent!' stickers, demanded immediate attention.

"I wonder what it could be?" The nobleman asked, more to be polite in Michael's company than actually caring.  
Michael shrugged, giving a sad smile when he noticed the All Starz' logo in the corner of the sender's sticker. He had been away from his team for two weeks, and although he had only been conscious for one day during that time, he still missed them. He missed Emily yelling at him for being ignorant; he missed joking around with Eddy and Steven; but most of all, he missed Trygle.

"Hmm..." Robert frowned at the contents of the parcel. "Gustav, take this to my private quarters, and get Ms Tate on the telephone for me."  
"Of course, Sire." The head of the household bowed and left the room with the mysterious delivery tucked under his arm.

"What was it?" Michael asked, curious as to why Judy needed to be called about it.  
Robert's frown deepened. "Nothing you need concern yourself with."  
"It had the All Starz logo on it, I think I have a right to know what they're sending you."  
"I will not tolerate such insolence from a guest in my castle!" The knight set his cutlery down and rose to his feet. "Finish your breakfast, I will return to help you back up to your room momentarily."

Michael pouted, but was in no position to do anything else. The very same Robert who had made him feel so loved yesterday as they walked together in the gardens, also had the ability to make him feel like he was nothing - no, lower than nothing.

Why did he even care? It wasn't as if he were trying to impress Sir Robert, or even attempt to be his friend. The pair were champion Beybladers from opposite sides of the world, and that's where their similarities ended. All Michael had to do was recover well enough from his wounds for Robert's doctors to give him the all-clear to travel, and he'd be gone - leaving this castle, and its owner, far behind him.

If it were up to him, he would have been gone the moment he regained consciousness yesterday morning. But Robert and Judy seemed to want him to suffer. Nothing would make him feel better than being in his own room, surrounded by all of his own things. He didn't even have access to his lucky cap. He'd never gone out in public without it, and now he was forced to parade in front of Robert's seemingly endless supply of servants with his unruly magenta mane curled and spiked out in all directions.

In pain _and_ embarrassed... the experience of the lap of medieval luxury wasn't exactly selling itself to him.

"The master is in the middle of an important phone call and will join you in a few minutes." Gustav showed the pair of boys into the dining hall. "Please have something to eat while you wait."  
"Thanks, Gustav, you rock!" The taller, blonde boy punched his fist into the air triumphantly.

"Oh?" The purple eyes of the shorter boy caught Michael's. "I'm so happy to see you're finally awake! Robert's been so worried about you... it was kind of sweet."  
"Don't listen to Oliver, he's too romantic for his own good. Robert wasn't so much _sweet_ as _pathetic_."  
"Hi, guys." Michael gave a weak smile, still rather upset about his argument over the All Starz' mysterious parcel. "It's good to see you again, Oliver and... Enrique, wasn't it?"

* * * * *

Robert walked in on the three boys mid-conversation. Oliver and Michael sat side by side; the French boy was sipping a cup of tea, whilst the American's attention was drawn entirely to Enrique, who was bounding around the room like he was trying to fly.

"You're _the_ Michael Parker?! Aw, man! I've seen you play a couple of times - I _love_ you!"  
Robert frowned. It was if the words themselves had slapped him. Michael was revelling in the attention, and nobleman couldn't help but be jealous of the smile Enrique had put on his guest's handsome face. He didn't possess the flair himself to make _anyone_ truly smile, not like the blonde Italian boy.  
"I didn't recognise you without your hat... your hair is awesome! Can I touch it?"

"I did not know you were a fan of baseball, Enrique." Robert cut in, growing more and more displeased with how the conversation was going.  
"There's a lot of things you don't know about me. The girls and I took off to the US for some fun a few months ago... So, Mikey, do you think you'd be able to get us some kick-ass seats for your next game?"  
Michael looked at Robert. "I don't know when I'll be up to playing again."

The way he said it was so sad, as if his very heart was breaking at the thought of being forbidden to do what he loved most. If Oliver hadn't leapt up to give him a reassuring hug, Robert was frightened that he very well might have.  
"Don't you worry your pretty little head over it!" The small boy chirped, nuzzling into Michael's shoulder. "You already look a thousand times better than you did when you left Russia."

Robert looked on, unamused. Oliver's flirting was embarrassing and infuriating to watch. How long would it take him, with his big sparkling eyes and girlie face to win over Michael? _His_ guest... _His_ Michael. He wished Johnny was there. He would have put a stop to all of this insanity with a couple of nasty remarks, which Robert, unfortunately, did not have the facetiousness to do himself.

Enrique had the verve; Oliver had the charm; Johnny had the wit. Robert, when compared to the company he kept, had nothing. He could see exactly why his foreign counterparts lit up his guest's face like he knew he never could - and it filled him with a strange longing that he had never felt before... a longing which could not, for once, be satisfied by his mountains of money.

"That big cut on your cheek has almost healed completely - and it looks like it's not going to scar either. You're very good-looking, I would hate to have seen you scarred."  
"Oliver, that's enough!"  
"Enough of what?" The green-haired boy looked confused. Why would Robert yell at him when he was only trying to be friendly?

"Come on, Oliver, let's go get something to eat... you own a restaurant around here, right?" Enrique yawned, grabbing his friend by the arm and dragging him to the door. "I think Robert wants his guest all to himself."

Robert rolled his eyes, even the way Oliver waved had an undeniable cuteness to it. The way Michael smiled and waved back told him that he could see it, too.

"I apologise for Oliver's behaviour." The knight said as he took his seat at the head of the table. "Embarrassing you like that was inexcusable, and I shall have a talk with him about it later."  
"He didn't embarrass me... I'm just not used to so much affection."  
"It did not bother you? He was all over you like a rash!"  
"I kinda liked it. My fans usually aren't _that_ pretty." Michael laughed. "But don't worry... he's not my type."  
"I beg your pardon?!" Robert demanded, more worried than angry by the insinuation.  
"You looked really upset when he was hugging me. I just want you to know I'm not interested in him, and he's all yours."

It took a moment for the nobleman to understand what had been suggested. "That is very generous of you, Michael, but my tastes are bold, not _cute_."


	4. Chapter 4

Michael was slightly more confident on his feet as the pair took another walk through the gardens, although he still kept his arm curled around Robert's arm in case he fell.

"You really were spectacular in Moscow..." The knight said awkwardly, trying to start a conversation. "I never got the chance to tell you that."  
"Thanks." Michael smiled, but his voice betrayed his sadness. He didn't want to remember how good he _had_ been. "So were you... We sure taught Tyson a thing or two, didn't we?"  
"Indeed."

Robert sighed, looking up at the clouds. He had been so concerned with coaching Tyson to victory that he had not taken much notice of the All Starz' captain, or anyone for that matter, back then. The boy had stood beside him the entire time they (along with Lee of the White Tigers) had given Tyson a last-minute training session, and he hadn't even cared to talk to him. He had been _too proud_ to talk to him.

Stubborn, arrogant, outgoing... the kind of personality he despised. The All Star even had the audacity to fight without a Bit Beast and expect to win! As far as Robert was concerned, both Michael and Lee's pretentious antics had done more harm than good - apparently _world-class_ Beybladers reduced to battling with hobbled blades. He had a right mind to tell them to go back to the hotel and let him handle Tyson alone, but they hadn't been worth his time. 

He had to admire their determination, though...

The very same traits which had once repelled him now bonded him to Michael in ways he couldn't describe nor admit to. He reached into the pocket in the lining of his leather vest, pulling out a finned piece of orange plastic.

He had been furious at Judy for sending it. Was the woman so blinded by her own ambitions that she would risk Michael's health just to continue her experiments on him? He wasn't ready to return to his training - and she _knew_ it.

Robert hadn't planned on handing Trygle over so soon - not until his guest's medical reports said he would be up to using it again, but...

But...  
Michael looked so sad...

And if he could earn a smile just like Enrique could so easily, then he would give Michael _anything_. And as a blader himself, he knew the one thing that could get that smile would be the boy's very own Trygle.

He guided Michael to sit beside him on one of the many elaborate stone benches placed around the gardens. Not saying a word, he took his guest's hand in his and placed Trygle in his palm.

"Oh... Robert, thank you!"  
And there it was - the smile he wanted. It lit up Michael's face, the likes of which even Enrique would be envious of!  
"Was this... was this what Judy sent you?"  
Robert nodded. "Your launcher and your hat are waiting inside."  
"I... I don't know what to say."  
"Then, do not say anything."

The pair were close, _very_ close, to each other. Robert took a chance and reached his hand up to touch Michael's face. The All Star's smile faded into a different breed of expression... almost seductive as he leant into the caress. The knight's heart felt fluttery. He never expected a response, let alone one so _encouraging_. He moved closer still... his face so close to Michael's he could feel the other boy's heated breath against him.

Heads tilted in agreement that a kiss was inevitable; lips parted ever so slightly, ready to meet with the awaiting lips of the other. With eyes closed and heart beating so fast Robert was sure it would burst out of his chest, the nobleman's hand curled around the back of Michael's neck, never wanting to let him go. Closer...

Closer...

A mere centimetre spanned the length of the universe as they slowly, hesitantly drew in to each other. No longer master and guest, or even competitors... here, their relationship changed. _How_ it would change relied solely on a single kiss...

"Hey, Robert!"  
Emotions once so intense fled the instant the third voice called out; leaving Robert infuriated with whoever was yelling at him, and leaving Michael hungry for what was taken away from him so suddenly.  
"What are you doing?!"

"Johnny?!" The knight stuttered, completely unprepared for the intrusion. "I was not expecting you."  
"Well, _that's_ obvious." The redhead smirked as he strutted closer. "I was in the area, so I thought I'd stop by and challenge you to a rematch, but if you've got better things to do than play Chess..."

Michael scowled, puffing his chest out and putting his hand on his hip. Attitude radiated off him with an intensity that made even Johnny feel threatened. "As a matter of fact-"  
"Not here." Robert cut him off, throwing his arm out to block him away from any fight that might eventuate if the pair were to continue the stand-off.

"Just _who_ is this guy?" Johnny asked - _demanded_ \- more to intimidate Michael in return, rather than out of actual curiosity. "He doesn't look like someone you'd usually hang around with, Robert."  
"Johnny McGregor," Robert flourished his hand toward the Scotsman, and then to his guest. "Michael Parker, captain of the American All Starz."

It seemed he was constantly introducing and reintroducing people to the ignorant highlander. He never knew (and never cared to ask) if the boy was simply _that_ forgetful, or just plain rude. Robert tended to lean toward the latter.

"Oh. _Now_ I remember. So what's he doing here anyway?" Johnny snorted, unimpressed. He turned his attention to Michael with a slight tilt of his spiky head. "I heard about your team's embarrassing losing streak. I really wish I'd been there to see _that_."  
"Johnny, be polite." Robert cautioned.

Michael wasn't as irascible as Johnny, but he certainly wouldn't sit back a let his team's honour be trash-talked either. Robert was worried Johnny was intentionally picking a fight - and whether it came down to fists or Beyblades, Michael couldn't possibly win in his current condition.

"Michael was injured, if you will recall; or have you forgotten why I left Russia so suddenly?"  
"Yeah, thanks for leaving me with those two morons. You know they invited themselves over to my place after that?! Enrique I don't mind, but I swear I'm going to kill Oliver the next time I see him."  
"Are you finished?" The purple-haired knight asked irritably.

"No, I've barely even started!" His team mate spat back, still trying to rile the outsider. "What do you want me to say? That it's embarrassing you would sink so low as to _kiss_ this _loser_?"  
"Say whatever you want. I'm outta here." The need to get away from Johnny's judgement far outweighed whatever discomfort Michael felt as he shakily rose to his feet and began to limp as fast as he could back to the castle.

It took all of Robert's willpower not to chase after him. His one chance, ruined. And there was nothing his pride would let him do to grab onto the hope of getting it back. His heart may have broken, but his stony face showed no sign of it in Johnny's presence.

"So..." The redhead drawled, planting his hands in his shorts' pockets and giving a self-satisfied grin. "What about that game of Chess?"  
"One game, and that is all."  
With any luck, Oliver and Enrique would have finished whatever they were doing by then, and Johnny could annoy them instead - giving Robert time to attend his other, more important guest.  
"Best of three."  
" _One_." Robert argued back. "You know I am going to beat you anyway. Why make it more painful for yourself?"


	5. Chapter 5

"Master Michael, are you all right?" Gustav hurried over to the boy as he attempted to climb up the long staircase to the second floor without any help.  
"I'm fine!" Michael snapped back, gripping the balustrade for dear life.  
The butler nodded, not paid to argue. "Very good, Sir."

Robert's kiss; Johnny's cruel words; the fact he couldn't even walk up stairs without problems... his life was falling apart around him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He couldn't see past his injuries or his stay in this castle - all he could see was his promising sports career snatched from him by a force everyone but Robert was so quick to blame on Trygle.

He managed another awkward step, proving to Gustav, if no one else, that he wasn't the loser Johnny had accused him of being.

The last time he had made his way up these stairs, Robert swept him into his arms and carried him most of the way. And as romantic as that was, today he would scale them alone. He didn't need anyone's help. The sooner he could do things on his own, the sooner he would be back home.

He was so confused about his feelings - his homesickness coupled with what had just transpired with Robert in the gardens - a little physical pain would be good for him.

Gustav had since left the room to attend to other matters, so Michael had no need to pretend he wasn't having a _lot_ of trouble with his footing.  
"I can do this..." He told himself, wanting to cry out as his muscles and stitched skin protested together.

Two steps later, he fell to his knees, giving up. He twisted himself around to sit down, and bowed his head in his hands. He had been trained to put his complete faith in the wonders science and technology, and had even laughed in the faces of those who suggested the human spirit was a far greater power. Right now, he wished he could share Max's cheery outlook. The little blonde ball of energy would never have let something like this get him down.

He was sure he could crawl the rest of the way. It was degrading, but at least he would have conquered the stairway on his own. Max would have - whatever it took to get it done.

* * * * *

Exhausted but proud, Michael laid in the middle of his huge bed, replaying the moment in the gardens over and over in his mind. He was going to _kiss_ Robert - and not just a friendly peck on the cheek either; he had been quite prepared to stick his tongue down the nobleman's throat, if Johnny hadn't interrupted him.

He shook his head. It was the castle... or the drugs... or both, that made him act so strange. He loved in much the same way as he played sport - hard and fast, without consequences. If he wanted Robert, he would have had - _and been finished with_ \- him by now.

This wasn't what he was used to. _This_ was straight from the pages of some cheesy romance novel read by hopeful high school girls and lonely housewives. This was not the way Michael Parker did things.

 _So make a serious move on him._ His thoughts taunted him.

 _How?_ He asked back dryly.

Robert was so proper, even the thought of seducing him seemed wrong. Sure, Michael had won over others above his stature before - but never _royalty_.

He flipped Trygle over in his palm a couple of times, finding comfort in the familiar feel of the blade. "What do I do, Trygle? This is all fucked up."  
The eagle Bit Beast, frozen in mid-flight on its chip offered him nothing in a spoken response.  
"I don't even want to be here."

He ran his thumb over one of the more vicious injuries on his arm, laced together with tiny stitches. "No one will tell me what happened - they all think it was you who did this to me. And now _this_?! I don't even _like_ Robert."

"Aw, he's not so bad once you get to know him." A head of green hair and bright purple eyes staring from a grinning face appeared around the ajar door to Michael's room.

"Hi." The single occupant of the room smiled, relieved to have some company at last, even if it wasn't who he'd been hoping for. "When did you get back?"  
"A short while ago... Enrique was too excited to eat, and no offence, but I got really tired of him talking about baseball."  
Michael shrugged, just happy having something to take his mind off his self-pity. "None taken."  
"So I thought I'd make you something special." Oliver winked, opening the door and bringing in a covered bowl. "I don't know what Robert wants you to eat, but I thought I couldn't go wrong with soup. It's my own special recipe!"

Soup?! What Michael really wanted was the congealed goodness of a burger and a large serve of salty French fries from any given fast food giant, washed down with a huge cup of his favourite cola. He, Eddy and Steven would often miss midday practise because they were at the local Burger King - and smelling the fresh, provincial aromas of whatever Oliver had in that bowl only made him miss those times even more. Would the guys even want to associate with him again if he never recovered?

Presently, Oliver was fussing around beside him, balancing the bowl in one hand as he moved things from Michael's side table with the other. Finally happy with the arrangement, he set the bowl down and smiled proudly.

"I hope you'll like it..." He leant right over to meet Michael as he sat up, accentuating every letter that required his lips to purse - so close he was almost daring to kiss him. "...I made it just for you. Mmmm..."  
"Thanks, that was sweet of you." He didn't feel like eating, least of all something that didn't have fries with it, but the boy had gone to so much trouble. He would get one of Robert's servants to dispose of it later.

Oliver wrinkled up his nose as he smiled, it made Michael want to smile back. The French boy was like a pretty little schoolgirl. He looked innocent enough, but the way he so casually flirted said otherwise.

"I'll see you later then."  
"Oliver, wait!" The All Star called the boy back as he turned to leave. "Would you stay with me for a little while?"  
"Oh..." Realisation hit the green-haired nobleman. "You must be pretty lonely here all by yourself, huh?"

Michael gave a half-hearted shrug, meaning 'yes', but without having to admit it. He was sure Oliver's company would be nothing like that of Eddy and Steve's, but it would suffice since he had no other option. Dirty jokes and all-out obnoxiousness would have to be put aside.

"W-what _is_ Robert like?" He began warily. "...Once you get to know him?"  
Oliver gave a knowing grin and sauntered back to the bed. He made the motions for the boy to move over, and before Michael could protest, he had laid down beside him.  
"He's nice." He said simply, sighing as he stared at the canopy above him. "I mean, _really_ nice. He may put on a convincing haughty aristocrat act, but underneath it, he's the sweetest guy you'll ever meet."

Michael gave a snort of disbelief, and Oliver was quick to defend his team's captain, rolling onto his side so he could look the other boy straight in the eye.  
"It's true! He took you into his home and has cared for you these past three weeks expecting nothing in return - and you're not the first stranger he's done that for. I think he feels guilty about having been born into wealth, when so many good people are suffering around him. Mind you, if you go blabbing about his hospitality, he'll deny it all."

* * * * *

"Checkmate." Robert folded his arms and gave a smug grin. "You lose, which means you get to keep Oliver and Enrique company while I take care of some things upstairs."  
Johnny scowled, both at losing the game and the proposition of spending time with the other two members of his team.  
"Some _one_ upstairs." He muttered, lining up his chess pieces back in their original places on the board.  
"I beg your pardon, Johnny? I could have sworn you said something just then."

"Why _him_?" The redhead spat spitefully. "He's not worth your attention; he's beneath you in every possible way!"  
"It is not your place to judge me!"  
"Well, what are other people going to think of you - _of the Majestics_ \- when they find out? Sure, one look at Oliver and everyone _knows_ he's flaming, but _you_ \- with an _All Star_ of all people?! You're our captain, you're supposed to represent everything that's good about us - and I don't want to be represented like _that_!"

Robert stood up in silence, Johnny's words hitting everywhere he didn't want to be hit.  
"Robert?"  
"I have nothing further to say to you." He lied, leaving the room before he said something he wouldn't be able to take back.

The red-haired boy was like a little brother to him - an obnoxious little brother, but one that he loved all the same. Would he risk their friendship for the sake of a love which might not even come to fruition?

He was angry - with Johnny for saying such cruel things, and with himself for caring. So it was with a fiery temper that he marched up to Michael's room, hoping he could seek comfort in the boy's alluring face.

He passed Oliver on the way, and snorted in response to the boy's cheery greeting. He wasn't in the mood for the idle chit-chat Oliver loved to indulge in, so he simply pushed past him, ignoring whatever it was he was saying. He heard the name 'Johnny' in there, and it only made him worse.

"What is _that_?"  
Michael turned to seek out what Robert was glaring at the moment he stepped through the door. "A bowl. What does it look like?"  
"How did it get there?"  
"Oliver brought me some soup, if that's okay with you." He added sarcastically, "Your highness."  
Robert disregarded the remark, his frown growing deeper the only clue that he had even heard it. "Oliver was here with you - alone?!"  
"Yeah, what's the problem?" The All Star spat back. Oliver had done nothing but praise the purple-haired nobleman, and all he could do in return was treat him like he was an annoyance. This was a side of Robert the small French boy seemed blissfully unaware of.

"Why did Gustav not notify me of his return?" The barrage of questions continued.  
"I guess he didn't think it was important."  
"He should not have been allowed to see you!" Robert snapped, furious and jealous. The little minx could seduce the entire world and it wouldn't have mattered to him, so long as he left Michael alone.


	6. Chapter 6

"I didn't know it would be a problem." Michael was fast growing tired of being treated like a child whose visits and activities were regulated by a strict parent. He wished Oliver had stayed a little longer so that Robert would have found them together in bed - it would have been a laugh, if nothing else.

The older boy sighed, dramatically slumping into the chair opposite the foot of Michael's bed. How could he ask what he really wanted to know? Had Oliver made the move he was too afraid to? And had Michael responded, despite his earlier assurances that the green-haired boy was not his type - had Oliver given him any other choice but to respond?

They sat in awkward silence, neither wanting to begin a conversation that would doubtlessly end up about their failed kiss. Michael stole glimpses of Robert through his bed's drapes, aching to ask if they could possibly rekindle the moment. And Robert was quick to glance back, wondering if Michael considered it more than a simple moment of poorly expressed gratitude.

A shock of orange behind the gossamer veil caught the nobleman's eye. Trygle! It was as good a subject as anything else he could think of to try and restore some sense of normality to the room.

"I think Griffolyon and Trygle would give a magnificent battle. An eagle is such a noble creature... Perhaps one day I will have the opportunity to see it in action?"  
Michael was quick to sit up and answer. "Why not now? I could really go for a Bey-battle."  
"No sport!" Robert replied, making Michael feel as though he were five years old. "You can barely stand - there is no way you could launch your blade in the manner you have been trained to."  
"I don't _have_ to launch it _that_ way - I'm adaptable!"  
"You are brave, if not a tad foolish, but a knight is always fair. And it would not be fair to fight you in your current condition."

Michael took a breath to argue some more, but Robert cut him off.  
"No! And that is final."  
"I know myself better than you or your quack doctors do, and I _know_ I can handle a Bey-battle!" Michael yelled like the spoiled child he was being treated as. "So quit telling me what to do. I can look after myself just fine!"  
"Whilst you are in my care, I will not allow such reckless behaviour."  
"I never asked to be _in your care_!"  
Robert scowled. "You would have died without me."  
"So what do you want - a medal?"  
"I want your respect, Michael."

The American was caught off-guard by the serious, sour answer his hot sarcasm received. His mouth moved, but he had no words to say. Was this another of Robert's games... of this castle's games?

"Robert..." He swallowed the tight lump of guilt in his throat and blinked back angry tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."  
He trailed off, unsure what to say to take back what he'd already made a mess of. Robert nodded in acknowledgment of having heard Michael's apology, but did not offer forgiveness or rejection of it.

"Call Judy... she'll organise getting me home. I don't want to be here any more than you want me here."  
"I never said I did not want you to stay." Robert, as always, worded his reply carefully with very little emotion, despite what he truly felt. "I just do not want you to get hurt. I promised Judy that I would look after you - and a knight never breaks a promise."  
"I _won't_ get hurt." Michael insisted. "And I _really_ need the practise."  
The knight sighed in defeat. He just couldn't say no when the boy looked at him with such sad, blue eyes.

Hooking his elbow around Michael's, more out of habit than necessity, Robert made his way down to his private training room. He would have liked to have shown off his Colosseum Stadium, but his guest was not well enough to endure a whirlwind flight to Greece. Even the thought of letting him battle in his smaller stadium weighed heavily on his mind.

"If you feel the slightest bit unwell, I want you to call back your blade and stop the match, all right?" He told Michael as he unlocked the doors to the room.  
"I'll be fine." The All Star shrugged his concern off. "There's no way I'm backing down from a fight."

* * * * *

Griffolyon arose, swooping down with its wings spread wide and its talons ready to attack. Trygle screamed as contact was made, its head whipping from side to side to land a vicious bite into any part of the griffin that it could reach. Griffolyon's hind legs kicked at the eagle's back as its front claws dug deeper into its opponent's shoulders.

"Trygle! Get out of there!" Michael yelled, wincing at his Bit Beast's bright golden glow. He suddenly felt very faint, and the stadium around him felt like it was spinning.

Blinking back his balance, he wasn't about to give Robert the satisfaction of knowing he had been right. He needed a quick win and then he would retire to bed - and the strict nobleman would be none the wiser.

Infused by its master's orders, Trygle soared higher, managing to clip Griffolyon's head with a violent flap of its wings. Whilst the enormous Bit Beast reeled for one precious second, the eagle took its chance and escaped.

"Running away, are we, Michael? I did not take you for a coward." Robert taunted.  
"You wish." The American smirked. "Trygle, now!"

The spinning was getting faster - as fast as the Beyblades themselves. Michael gripped his forehead. "Trygle..."  
"Griffolyon, attack!"  
With a war cry not unlike Trygle's own, the griffin raced forward, but Michael did not see the result.

"Michael!" Robert raced across the stadium to his fallen opponent. Griffolyon and Trygle, without orders, ended the match without a clear winner.

* * * * *

"So proud and stubborn... you could have killed yourself out there! I should have been more persistent in stopping you..."

The doctors had been summoned, and they had found nothing seriously wrong with Michael. He should not have been subjected to the excitement of a furious Bey-battle whilst he was still injured, and he had merely fainted as a result. All he needed was a good sleep, and they had given him the medication to ensure that he would get it.

He would be out for hours, and Robert insisted on watching over him; talking to him, and begging for his forgiveness, even though he knew he would not receive an answer. The words were so much easier to say like that.

"Robert? Gustav said you were up here... What happened?"  
"Oliver..." The purple-haired knight didn't look around. "I am such a fool. I let him fight when I knew he would not be able to. Am I getting so weak that I cannot say no to him? He could ask for anything and I would give it to him..."

Oliver edged closer, standing beside Robert and looking down at Michael. He could feel his captain's adoration for his guest. It radiated off him like a warm glow, and it made the shorter boy smile.

"He has the handsome face and the strong jaw of a knight..." Robert observed, reaching out and feathering a touch across the sleeping boy's cheek. "With hair that could rival the magenta of any royal robe."  
Michael gave a soft moan as his slumber was stirred by his company's fingertips lacing through his wild locks.  
"It is such a pity that he has all the charm, or lack thereof, of a common scoundrel."

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" The pretty, green-haired boy grinned as his eyes shifted from Robert's longing gaze to his hands, which lovingly caressed the sleeping All Star.  
"That is ridiculous! He is ignorant, selfish and arrogant; he has a filthy mouth and no respect for my household - he disgusts me!"  
"Yet you touch him like he is made of glass?"

There was a long silence; not awkward, but certainly not comfortable while Oliver's question still hung unanswered.

"...Yes." Robert finally sighed in defeat. "I am afraid I am in love."  
"Ah, _l'amour_..." The younger boy giggled, holding his hands to his heart. "It's not as bad as you think!"  
"It is easy for you... you know how to express yourself."  
"Oh, Robert, you try too hard! Relax, and it'll come." Oliver winked. "How could Michael resist someone like _you_?"  
"One word to the others, and I swear I will destroy you."


	7. Chapter 7

_"Oh yeah, **whatever**!" Michael's voice echoed down the Russian alleyway. "Without Black Dranzer, you don't stand a chance against me. I'm going to kick your ass!"_  
_"Always so sure of yourself... don't you ever get tired of being wrong?" Ian smirked at his frown._

_"I don't think you understand how seriously we take our Beyblading here, and how deeply you've offended us by mouthing off like that." The red-haired captain of the Demolition Boys added spitefully. "Don't expect us to go easy on you just because we're not in competition any more."_  
_**This** sparked Bryan's interest. "If anything, no audience and no cameras means no rules."_  
_"I hope you're up to it." Tala's tone was condescending. "However, an **exact** rematch is out of the question."_

Michael bolted upright, eyes wide and sweat running down his horrified face. The room around him was bright with the light of a new morning. He looked down at his fading wounds which throbbed with new pain when he thought about acquiring them.

His thoughts began to scare him. How much of the attack had he been conscious for? Did he scream when razor-sharp talons tore into him? Who, what, and most importantly - _why_ , were questions he wasn't prepared to answer whilst he still bore physical testament to the ordeal.

A plush velvet chair that had been dragged to his bedside, where Robert was asleep. His head lay in his folded arms on the edge of the mattress, in what was clearly not a peaceful sleep.

He'd pieced together what had happened, since the last thing he remembered from the previous day was feeling terribly ill during his battle. It brought a smile to Michael's face to know that it wasn't just one of his desperate father-figure fantasies; that Robert _did_ actually care enough to stay with him.

He reached over to touch the spikes of purple hair on the nobleman's brow, and Robert was instantly awake at the contact. Confusion flickered in his eyes for a brief moment, before he placed where he was and what he was doing there.

"How are you this morning?" He asked groggily, but still with that unmistakable air of nobility.  
"I'm okay." Michael answered in such a way that there would be no need for any follow-up questions. He didn't want to detail what secrets his memory had just unlocked for him - it would only worry Robert, and he didn't want to do that any more than he already had. "Who won?"  
"Pardon?"  
"Who won yesterday's match?" The All Star corrected himself.  
It took every fibre of Robert's willpower to put his honour aside and answer untruthfully. "...You did."  
And Michael smiled kind of smile he'd hoped for in return.

The knight rose to his feet, presumably to leave and Michael followed him up, kneeling on the bed. Their embrace was as sudden as it was mutual.

Michael pulled himself tightly against Robert as strong arms encircled his waist. This time, the door was closed and locked; this time, the staff had been given strict orders not to disturb their master for any reason; this time... there would be no interruptions.

Their kiss was soft at first, both gauging how far the other was willing to go. Michael tasted like cherry, possibly because of all the medication he was taking, but there was an additional sweetness there that could only be described as _pure Michael_. Rich and bitter, like strong coffee was how Robert tasted in return.

Their actions grew hot, fast and desperate - as if they were madly trying to catch up on what they had lost before. Michael's fingers sought the zipper at Robert's throat, drawing it down and sliding his hand inside the knight's neckline. His skin was so soft, like silk under his touch.

Robert grabbed the boy's wrist. "No."  
He didn't want to rush into something he very well might regret. Michael obviously liked him, but that wasn't enough. The boy may have been famous in his own country, but that did not add royalty to his common blood - which would displease the Jürgens family immensely.

Add to this the fact that the pair lived half way across the globe from each other. And the most painfully obvious hurdle of all - Michael was also a man. It was Robert's duty to continue his family's illustrious line... to marry a woman of stature, and through his son, become part of history like his father and his grandfather, and all his ancestors before them.

He should never have kissed Michael. He should never have opened himself to the temptation. Now it was there - the boy's taste, his smell, his touch; all calling him back for more. He had a craving; a weakness that could never be satisfied unless Michael was his and his alone.

His guest had no such hesitation, twining his arms around Robert's shoulders and rekindling the kiss.

"Michael, I said _no_." It was a stern order which could not be argued.  
The red-haired boy's glassy eyes were filled with disappointment and confusion. "Robert?"  
The knight shook his head. "I cannot let you do this."  
"But, I-"  
He stroked the All Star's face. "You are too precious to me. I would never forgive myself if I allowed you to cheapen yourself by giving me so much."

No one else Michael had ever met would kiss like _that_ and then walk away. It was arousing... Robert kept him wanting more, and he didn't even realise he was doing it.

The moment was over and he knew that pushing Robert any further would only embarrass the conservative nobleman. With any other man, he would have been on his back (or stomach, depending on where they were when their urges struck) by now, with his legs spread, moaning for more, harder, faster.

"Then, when?"  
"Michael..." Robert's fingertips brushed over the boy's throat and up to softly tilt his chin. "There are so many complications..."  
The American frowned. In his world, a romantic complication was a stubborn button on his shorts when he needed sex right away. He drew a breath to argue back, but Robert pressed his fingers to his lips.  
"Please do not make this any more difficult for me than it is."

And without another word, he turned and left Michael kneeling on his bed, more confused than ever.

"Robert..."

* * * * *

"You are still here?" Robert asked bluntly as he caught sight of Oliver and Enrique at the breakfast table.  
"Of course we are!" The smaller boy answered a little too enthusiastically. Something was going on, but the master of the castle couldn't think what it could possibly be.  
"Where is Johnny?"  
"Back in Scotland." Enrique offered vaguely, before something over Robert's shoulder caught his eye, making him leap up and race out of the room.  
"He left shortly after we got back..." Oliver continued. "He said he felt sick or something."

Robert huffed in frustration, both at Johnny's attitude and the sudden rabble which had sprung up behind him. "I had better give him a call."  
"Why? You'll see him again tonight."  
"What is happening tonight?" He was even more confused, especially with the look he was receiving from his French team mate.  
"Your aunt and uncle... don't you remember?"  
"That is _tonight_?!"  
"I haven't been slaving away in your kitchen these past two days for nothing, you know."

Robert blanched. "I... I am not ready for them."  
"Don't worry about it." Oliver dismissed his concern with a wave of his delicate hand. "You've had so much on your mind recently, Enrique and I have taken care of all the arrangements. All you have to do tonight is sit back and take all the credit."

"Oh, and Michael," The blonde boy cut in loudly as he showed the All Star into the room. "I told the Duke and Duchess what an awesome guy you are, and they're really looking forward to meeting you."  
It barely lasted a second, but Michael caught the look of horror on Robert's face... almost as if he were ashamed of his guest in the presence of his family. It felt like his heart had torn itself from its veins and plummeted to his feet.  
"Thanks, Enrique." He looked directly at Robert and added. "I'd _love_ to meet them."


	8. Chapter 8

Robert performed the duties of the gracious host like clockwork, never once alluding to what had happened between him and Michael that morning. What upset his guest the most was the way Robert acted like nothing was any different. Nothing he said sounded forced; the way he touched Michael when they took their ritual walk around the gardens was no less or no more tender than before. It was truly as if nothing had changed... as if the feelings they shared in that one beautiful kiss were just a figment of Michael's imagination.

Oliver had said Robert was good at hiding his emotions, but no one was _that_ good.

"You can't ignore me forever." Michael prompted.  
"I am not ignoring you."  
The boy stopped walking. "Cut the crap, Robert! You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about."  
"There is no need for that sort of language." Robert stopped and turned back several steps away. "And no, I am afraid I do not."

"So, that's it? You want to pretend that it never happened... that it wasn't the most amazing kiss I've ever had?! I knew you were different, but not _that_ different."  
"We discussed this earlier. I did not see the need to bring it up again."  
"No, _**you** discussed it earlier_." The shorter boy spat back. "I'm tired of playing games. What do you want from me, Robert?"

The knight closed his dark eyes, steeling himself with a deep breath. "I want what I cannot have."  
"I'd let you have whatever you wanted." Michael moved to be close to him, so close he felt the shiver run through Robert's skin as they touched. "You know that, don't you?"  
"What you are willing to offer me, and what I should take, are two entirely different things."  
"What you _should_ take?!" The All Star raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Is this some sort of chivalry thing? Because if it is, I've got a news flash for you - chivalry is dead. You wouldn't see _me_ putting my coat in the mud, or opening a door for someone."

Robert smirked, deciding a response to Michael's argument would be far too easy, and whether the boy would know what 'uncouth knave' meant was a debatable point. He ran a finger softly across Michael's jaw, even though he'd told himself not to touch him affectionately any further.  
"It is people like you who killed it."

Michael's arms twined around Robert's neck as the knight stooped to embrace the shorter boy around his waist. And before he could stop himself, Robert was in the midst of a kiss that would have made his last one jealous.

As if sensing romance in the air, Oliver looked up from his work in the kitchen, and spotted the pair from the window. He gave a happy sigh, thinking back to when he had last been held like that.

Michael forced the kiss to go deeper - opening Robert's mouth with the initially gentle probing of his tongue. He sought out Robert's tongue with his own, and as they touched, the knight's first reaction was to push his over-zealous lover away. But he found himself loving the way Michael writhed against him as his tongue played back and forth, in and out of his mouth.

The nobleman noted, with a mixture of shock and enjoyment that the sweet kiss had degenerated, nay, _evolved_ into a savage duelling of tongues. And if he had been with anyone else - anyone his family would consider worthy - he would never have experienced such a thing.

The feel of it, the taste of it... Michael's hot body pressed so tightly against him he could tell _exactly_ how much the boy was enjoying the moment. It was so wrong to be outside doing these things, and yet, nothing Robert had ever done had felt so right before.

"I want you so bad..." The American whispered as their lips finally parted.  
Robert wanted to return the sentiment, but by saying it himself, he would be confessing to abandoning everything he had been brought up to believe. If he remained silent, he still had a chance to be forgiven... if he was that generous to himself.

"I really should make sure that everything is satisfactory for the dinner tonight." He said suddenly, leaving Michael to wonder if he had done or said anything wrong to make the knight want to hurry away like that.

* * * * *

"So, where's the party?"  
Oliver and Enrique both turned to see Johnny standing in the doorway, draped in his tartan finery.  
"Nice dress." The French boy giggled, running over to feel the woollen pile of his outfit. "Got anything on under there?"  
Johnny scowled, so sick of the same old jokes about his kilt, that he instantly emancipated whatever pleasantries he may have had planned. "Go fuck yourself, Oliver."  
It made Enrique's jaw drop, but didn't deter its target in the slightest.  
"And don't touch me!" He barked, swatting the offending hands away. "I swear, I'm _this_ close to kicking your ass!"

"What is all this noise about?!" The master of the castle asked as he barged through the door. "Johnny? I am so glad you could make it."  
"Oh, I wouldn't miss _this_ for the world." The smug way he said it demanded questioning, but Robert did not have the time to interrogate him when there were far more important things to attend to before his guests arrived - namely Michael, who was suspiciously absent even though he had been told to get dressed and return downstairs immediately.

Dashing upstairs, Robert headed to the boy's room to either help him or hurry him up, he hadn't decided yet. He found Michael sitting on his bed, tossing Trygle from one hand to the other in some form of low-impact practise.

"What happened to the clothes I gave you?" He demanded.  
The All Star set Trygle down and got up to stand face to face with Robert. "You don't seriously expect me to wear something like that?"  
"Michael, appearance is very important to my family. They will not treat you with any respect if you wear _that_." He gave an open hand gesture up and down the boy's mid-section.  
"I always wear this!" Michael snorted indignantly, tugging proudly at his jersey's collar. "I'm not going to pretend to be someone else for the sake of impressing a bunch of snobs. If _this_ is good enough to meet the President in, then it's good enough for your folks."  
"Then at least take your hat off." Robert bargained, grabbing the offending cap by its brim and ripping it from Michael's head. "My family would be no less mortified than I at you wearing it indoors."  
"Goddamn it, Robert!" He snatched the hat back. "I'm not some little kid you can boss around!"  
"Then stay up here. I will have Gustav bring your plate up to you."  
"Oh... You can't disguise me, so you have to hide me?"  
"It is not like that, and you know it." Robert turned to leave. "If you decide you want to be civilised, you may join us in the dining hall at your convenience."

* * * * *

The castle walls were quite soundproof, and struggle as he might, Michael could not even make out a faint whisper of the conversation inevitably happening downstairs.

He had seen the Duke and Duchess arrive from his window overlooking the castle's winding driveway. As soundproof as it was to everything else, the _bang!_ of the drawbridge and clatter of the portcullis shook its very foundations. It was all for show, of course. None of the Majestics had required such a grand welcome.

He cast a look at the expensive outfit Robert had asked him to wear to dinner, crumpled on the floor where he had tossed it like it was one of his dirty baseball uniforms. And his mind wandered to what the master of the castle might be wearing to impress his esteemed guests. There was no doubt he was curious to see Robert done up in ermine and velvet... or whatever royalty wore to a quiet family get-together.

As much as he hated to admit it, the last thing he wanted to do was upset Robert, even if he couldn't stand one side of his dual personality - and knew it would be _that_ side who was hosting the party downstairs. Even if Michael _did_ don the velvet monstrosity and brave the evaluations of his upper-class company, he doubted he'd even receive a polite greeting from the Majestics' captain.

It made him wonder what he had ever seen in the guy. What was it about him that made him yearn to kiss him again? That made him want to run down those stairs just to catch a glimpse of him? One night stands made so much more sense. Love was just too confusing.

Sighing in defeat, he took his hat off, and pulled his hair back into a ponytail like Robert had suggested he do...


	9. Chapter 9

Making his way carefully down the stairs, Michael's injuries only gave him grief for several steps - but none so bad that he had a decent excuse to go back to his room. Coming down was a stupid idea... as stupid as he believed he looked.

Long pants, long sleeves, and a high collar on his coat ensured that every single scar and stitch was covered for appraising eyes. He did have a pale mark on his face, but as Oliver had so _enthusiastically_ pointed out, it was almost completely healed. Surely he wouldn't get penalised for that.

"Isn't this nice? Just the six of us." Johnny's nasal whine of a voice carried through the corridor leading to the dining hall as Gustav opened the door and headed out.

"Why, Master Michael, you look very dashing this evening. What are you doing downstairs?"  
"I want to beat myself up." The boy answered glumly, looking down at himself. "Anyway, I thought I'd meet Robert's family... you know, see what they're like."  
"Will you be dining with them, Sir?"  
"Sure... why not?" He shrugged. "I've come this far. Things can't get much worse."

Robert looked up from the lecture about responsibility he was receiving from his uncle when Gustav re-entered the dining hall.  
"Yes?"  
"Master Michael is here to see you, Sir." The butler bowed and directed the American boy into the room.

The knight was fearful to look, but was relieved to have a distraction, even if it was just for a moment. His eyes met Michael's... and his heart skipped a beat as he took in the sight of his beautiful guest in all his faux noble splendour. 

He didn't show his approval as blatantly as Oliver and Enrique, who, by their expressions, were both on the verge of applause - but Michael saw it in his eyes, and that was enough for him.

Robert rose from the head of the table, gesturing for Michael to sit beside Enrique and opposite Johnny. In a perfect world, he would have taken his hand, kissed him gently, and proudly introduced him to his aunt and uncle as the man he loved.  
But all he was _allowed_ to say was, "My lord, my lady. May I present Michael Parker, captain of the All Starz."

"The worst team in the history of competitive blading." Johnny muttered, before suddenly jumping at being kicked from under the table. He cast an angry glance at Enrique, who was pretending - _badly_ \- that he knew nothing about it.

This was followed by the standard fake uproar when people who don't really care for each other meet for the first time - filled with questions that Robert's relatives didn't want to ask and Michael didn't want to answer. Both played their parts to perfection, getting past the initial awkwardness of introductions and brief histories, and settling into silence.

The meal came and went - and Oliver's cooking talents became the topic of forced conversation. The green-haired boy nodded politely to every compliment, leaping up to help the servants clear the table as soon as the opportunity arose. 

"Oliver, you are my guest. There is no need for you to do that." Robert knew the boy's actions were not through lack of refinement, but rather, a desperate need to get out of the room and its tension.  
"I _want_ to help." He insisted, piling another plate onto the stack in his arms. "Really."

The Duke cleared his throat, signalling it was time for his nephew to return to their previous discussion. Robert was beginning to wish he'd thought of Oliver's idea.

* * * * *

Whilst Robert and his uncle looked over the castle's expenditure and other reports at the opposite end of the table, they left the Duchess to chat with the other boys.

"I met a nice girl the other day." Johnny began. "She reminded me a lot of you, Duchess Jürgens - beautiful, intelligent..."  
"Oh, Johnny, you rogue!" The noblewoman giggled like a girl half her age. "But is she a woman of property?"  
"Oh yeah - heaps of money. I'd never even _consider_ pursuing a _girl_ of _lower_ stature."

Robert looked up and met Johnny's cool stare back at him. He didn't like this game one bit, and there was very little he could do to stop it. He glanced over to Michael, who had his head bowed in a poor attempt to hide his discomfort.

"But I'm sure you don't want to listen to me all night. What about you, Parker? Why don't you tell us about your girlfriend?"  
"I don't have a girlfriend, _McGregor_." The All Star answered sourly. "I'm too busy _earning_ my money."

Robert's expression was one of complete shock. He caught Michael's eye and shook his head. _Those_ were not the types of things one said in the presence of royalty.  
Johnny, however, was up for the argument. "Hitting a ball around all day is not what _I'd_ call _working_."  
"Hey, back off!"

The master of the castle bowed his head in his hands as Enrique proceeded to defend his favourite sport. All he needed was for Oliver to join the melee and his dinner party would officially be a disaster.

Duke Jürgens patted the boy's shoulder sympathetically. Several young and headstrong personalities in the confines of one room was bound to start a disagreement sooner or later. He was surprised it had taken as long as it did.

Thinking he was helping, he announced, "A strapping lad like yourself - without a girlfriend, Michael? I find that difficult to believe."  
Oliver bit his lip; Johnny snickered; Robert wanted to curl up and disappear.

"Well, there is _someone_..." The American admitted, never once taking his eyes off the object of his affection. "But I don't think they know how I feel about them."  
Robert abruptly rose to his feet. "I am sorry to cut this short, but it is important that Michael take his medication at the correct time. So, if you will excuse us."

Ever the nobleman, he offered his hand politely to his guest, despite wanting to clout him across the head with it. The pair made their way out of the room together, leaving the others in uncomfortable silence behind them.

Several minutes later, the Duke and Duchess excused themselves as well, deciding it best to leave, and asking not to disturb Robert from his duties. Gustav was glad to escort them out, leaving the three Majestics to argue amongst themselves.

Johnny lounged back in his chair, grinning like he was drunk.  
Enrique frowned. "You could at least _try_ to be nice, you know."  
"Why? It's so much more fun this way."  
"What have you got against Michael anyway?"  
"Why don't you ask Robert... or Oliver - he's probably the one who gave him the idea in the first place."

"Huh?!" The green-haired boy had remained silent the entire evening, but the moment he heard his name in a derogatory slur, he rose to the offensive.  
"Oh, come on, Oliver! You prance around in front of Robert like the _Queen_ of Jürgens Castle - it's got to be a bad influence on him. No wonder he's gone fruity."  
"That's not fair!" He blinked at the tears stinging his eyes. "I can't help the way I am."

"Oliver!" Enrique called after him as he ran out of the room. He started to give chase, turning back as he reached the door. "Good one, Johnny. You keep this up and the Majestics are finished."  
"I'm trying to save us." He muttered in return to the empty space his Italian team mate had been just seconds ago.

He had said a great many nasty things to and about Oliver, and none had ever brought him to tears before. It was Michael's fault... the Majestics' fifth wheel. Perhaps Johnny had been unnecessarily cruel, and perhaps Oliver had been overly sensitive... but these things would never have happened if Robert had been there.

If Robert was with his friends...

But he was upstairs...  
With _him_.

If making Oliver cry was the price Johnny had to pay to get their captain to stand up and take notice of what was Michael was doing to his team, then he would do it again and again until the outsider was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

"What do you think you were doing?!" Robert yelled as he slammed the door to Michael's room closed. "I hope you have an extra room at your place, because if my uncle figures out what you meant back there, I will not be welcome here any more."  
"I'm sorry!" Michael shouted back, just as agitated as his company by the sudden attack.  
" _Sorry_ does not reinstate my honour!"

" _Your honour_..." The All Star repeated, so tired of the nobleman hiding behind the loathsome word. "You know what, Robert? Fuck you - _and_ your honour. I'm sorry I let Johnny get to me. And I'm sorry I ever fell in love with you!"

_"Oliver, don't run so fast!"_  
_"Leave me alone!"_

The commotion in the hallway outside could not have come at a worse time. The last thing Robert needed was his relatives to witness chaos in his household - especially since his uncle had all but said outright that he was too young and inexperienced to run the entire castle on his own.

_"Look, I don't know what Johnny's problem is, but I'm sure he didn't mean to upset you."_  
_"Let go of me!"_  
_"Not until you agree to come back downstairs. We haven't even had the gelato yet... and you **know** how much trouble we went through to get it imported."_

How could he choose between settling Oliver and Enrique down before the Duke labelled him a good-for-nothing insult to the family... and Michael, who had just admitted to _loving_ him?

_"I don't feel like gelato. I'd rather just be by myself."_  
_"Then what about the, you know - surprise? They've been outside for hours... they're probably wondering what happened to us."_  
_"I'm not kidding, Enrique. If you don't let me go right now, I'll scream!"_

Robert stared at the boy dumbly for a moment. There were so many things he wanted to say to him, but with the threat of Oliver screaming bloody murder hanging over him, he said none of them.

"I... I must go."  
"Robert, wait." Michael grabbed the knight's arm. "All you ever do is run away from me... am I _that_ bad?"  
"My god, no." He assured him passionately, smoothing a rogue magenta strand back into his guest's ponytail. "Your language aside, you are so very perfect."

He ran his fingertips down the side of Michael's face, letting them linger on his chin as he backed away. "Stay here. I will return for you in a moment."

* * * * *

The sweet sound of soft violin music carried through the air, and Robert was reminded that he had been away from his dinner party for too long as was considered polite.

His team mates were nowhere to be seen - and suspiciously quiet, despite their yelling at one another not a moment before. Whether Oliver was still intending to scream or whether Enrique had let him go, were things Robert intended to investigate before returning downstairs and apologising profusely to his relatives for the terrible evening.

Looking out over the terrace as he passed by a window, a string quartet played under the moonlight. He couldn't stay angry at the pair, despite their questionable behaviour, when they had arranged something like this. It had to have been them, for he could not remember doing such a thing himself - although he was sure his aunt and uncle would adore the gesture and thank him for it.

Heads of gold and green caught his eye as they made their way out to the musicians, and Robert breathed a sigh of relief upon noticing whatever had happened between them was finished with. Oliver's giggle rose above the music as Enrique bowed and offered his hand to him, obviously inviting him to dance.

Watching Enrique whisk the shorter boy into his arms, Robert felt a pang of jealousy. They could get away with public follies like that - and no one would question their motives. Just two friends having fun. If he were to do the same, there would be outrage. If it was _right_ for him to dance, his partner would be chosen first upon her pedigree, and then upon her bank balance. Whatever breed of repulsion Robert felt toward her was not a concern when courtly appearance in the eyes of his peers was all that mattered.

_Fuck me - **and** my honour..._

* * * * *

Johnny looked up from his bowl of gelato as Robert entered the dining hall.  
"You're missing out on all the fun." He said sarcastically, taking another mouthful of his dessert. "This stuff sucks...you'd think by now Enrique would know I like _chocolate_ , not whatever the hell _this_ is."

There was silence from his company as he surveyed the room.  
"Is Oliver still crying like a girl?"  
"Oliver is fine." Robert snapped, answering purely to stop Johnny's rambling. "It is the absence of my Lord and Lady that I am concerned about."  
"Oh, they left while you were upstairs."

His captain pulled up the chair opposite him, all but collapsing into it. "Did they say anything?"  
Johnny pondered the possibility of lying; of saying that they had disliked Michael so much, they couldn't stand being in the same castle as him. But the fear of his family's disapproval etched into Robert's face softened his hard heart for just a moment to give his friend some comfort.  
"No. They just didn't want to disturb you any longer than necessary."

He'd never seen Robert with so little composure before, as the nobleman gave a heavy sigh and bowed his head into his folded arms on the table. "Thank you."  
"Robert?"  
"Mmm?" He answered, not moving.  
"I'm not sorry for what I did tonight, and I'll do it again if I have to."  
"Good." He sat up straight and looked Johnny directly in the eye, ready for an argument. "My catering bill should not be as expensive if I have one less guest."  
"It's not _me_ you should be getting rid of!" The redhead slammed his fist down on the table, making his bowl rattle in front of him.

"Who are _you_ to tell _me_ what I can and cannot do?"  
"I'm your best friend, Robert - that's who. I don't want to hurt you, but if you choose _him_ over me, then I _won't_ be as subtle next time."  
"Go ahead. See if I care." The knight rose to his feet, just angry enough to call Johnny's bluff and regret the consequences later. "I will not be made the victim of a childish ultimatum by someone calling himself my _best_ friend."

And with that, the dinner party was officially over. Robert would have Gustav tell him everything that transpired during his time upstairs with Michael later. Johnny could eat all the gelato he wanted - alone; and Enrique and Oliver could dance the night away with their string quartet. He was going back up to be with his other guest, and everyone else could go to hell.

Casting another envious glance out the window as he passed it, Oliver's coat flared out in blue ripples as he twirled from his partner's outstretched arm. So similar to each other, the pair moved as one - in perfect rhythm... in perfect understanding.

Sadness filled his heart, so much like the romantic song filling and echoing through the corridor where he walked toward Michael's room. As much as he might wish, a _perfect understanding_ between him and _anyone_ else was completely out of the question. He didn't know how to let someone get _that_ close to him.

Michael had thrown his coat on the floor, and was beginning to untie his hair when Robert returned.  
"Leave it up. Would you, please?" He requested. "You have such a beautiful face... I would like to be able to see it without your hair in the way, if only for tonight."

"Sure..." Michael warily complied. Judy had often referred to him as 'the pretty boy' when planning her strategies for the All Starz' promotional appearances, and of course there was Oliver's casual comments about his looks, but he had never received a compliment with the sincerity of Robert's before.

As his thoughts touched briefly on the little French boy, he was reminded of his recent outburst in the hallway. "Oh, is Oliver okay?"  
Robert nodded. He was more than _okay_ \- he had a friend who cared deeply for him...

"Would you... would you dance with me?"  
"What?" Michael looked confused.  
"Dance with me. Right here."  
He shook his head. "I don't know how to."  
Robert pulled him close with one arm wrapped around his waist, and taking his hand with the other. "Follow my lead."

Michael pushed himself closer, taking advantage of the situation to give Robert a taste of those things he _shouldn't take_. He'd never been any good at dancing, but he knew how to kiss - and do it _very_ well. His hand curled around the back of his partner's neck, and it barely took a gentle touch to guide Robert down to receive a hungry kiss.

The waltz he had envisioned was barely a sway as tongues curled around and lapped at each other. Michael's hands sought the hem of the older boy's tunic, sliding under it and over his hips - daring to brush across his groin for one delicious moment. Robert's breath caught in his throat. How could a single touch render him so completely helpless to his most primal wants?

He broke from the kiss to gasp. His honour wanted him to stop... his humanity hoped that he wouldn't.

Hooking his thumbs inside the back of Robert's pants, Michael splayed his fingers across the knight's muscular buttocks, squeezing playfully and pulling him closer. The young sports star then began to grind his hips against him - hard flesh against equally hard flesh, with but a few layers of fabric between them.

"Michael... no!" He finally managed to moan, scared of his new feelings; scared of satisfying his growing desires.  
"You don't mean that." Michael teased, slowing his movements down to long, intense grinds - proving to Robert by his very own gasps that it was true.

He was so close to expressing himself physically... possibly even sexually. Michael gritted his teeth and buried his face in the crook of the knight's neck as he was suddenly consumed by a searing pain running through his leg. It hurt so much, he wanted to collapse on the floor and scream.

He couldn't ruin the moment... everything had been so right. If he could just cling to Robert's shoulders until his agony subsided, the rest of the night could continue just as perfectly.

The Majestic felt the smaller boy tense up in his arms. His breathing was heavy - but more pained than impassioned; and his body, which had writhed so intensely against him, suddenly fell still.

"Michael? Are you all right?"  
He nodded against his shoulder, not daring to speak. _Not now..._ He begged himself, _Please don't do this to me now._


	11. Chapter 11

Robert laid Michael down carefully, and sat beside him.  
"Something is wrong. You should not be suffering like this."  
"I'm fine." The boy argued back, wincing as he reached to touch the knight's face. "I want to finish _dancing_ with you."  
Robert slapped his hand away. "My doctors will be arriving any minute."

Michael sulkily flopped back down on his bed. It was useless. Back into Master of the Castle mode, Robert wasn't going to say or do anything to jeopardise his precious honour. He'd let his guard down for one sweet moment - and now it was back up like double reinforced steel.

He'd _felt_ how much the knight had been enjoying himself. And whilst Michael's groin still ached with unsatisfied need; Robert had simply resumed his other personality; which, his guest noted wryly, was incapable of feeling anything vaguely pleasurable.

"Robert... please don't do this."  
"Do what?"  
"Pretend it didn't happen." The All Star sighed sadly, already admitting defeat.

There was silence - Robert's favourite answer when he refused to commit to anything.

"...Would you have made love to me?"  
He was visibly disturbed by the bold question. "Now is not the time to be talking about this."  
"When exactly _is_ the time, then?"  
"Not now!" He snapped back. "There are more important things to worry about at the moment."  
"Like what? Like _this_?" Michael gestured to his leg. "It'll be okay in a few minutes. It's nothing."  
Robert rose angrily to his feet. "Stop being so stupid! You did not have to see yourself in the condition you were in when you were brought here. I honestly thought there was a chance you would not live to recover... and you want to risk your health for the sake of carnal gratification?!"

"Sir?" Gustav cleared his throat at the doorway. "Your physicians have arrived."  
"Send them in." His master ordered, hoping he hadn't heard any of the conversation, but knowing by the look on his face that he had caught at least _some_ of it.

An hour came and went as Robert paced outside Michael's room. He thought it best to wait and hear the diagnosis before retiring to bed, and walking up and down the hallway in silent meditation was a much better option than spending time with his team mates downstairs.

His thoughts lingered on Michael's question, and why it had been so difficult for him to answer. When the boy had asked it, it was if someone had punched him in the gut. It had hit him so hard, so unexpectedly, he hadn't known _what_ to say.

Lying was never his forte, and he had managed to avoid giving an answer... for a little while anyway. But he had no doubt Michael would bring the subject up again, at the least appropriate time - and he had to be ready for it.

But how could he do it? How could he say what was in his heart? Yes, if Michael had guided him, he would have gone as far as the boy wanted him to. He had got so worked up over what little they _had_ done, it hurt. He'd never felt pain like it before - but he had never truly been sexually aroused before, either. A tough bey-battle may have excited him in the past, but not with the intensity Michael did.

"Sir Robert?" One of the doctors called the nobleman back into the room, explaining that the patient should not have been walking around unassisted and certainly not allowed to dance in his fragile state.

They had re-bandaged his knee, which Michael looked less than impressed with as he continued to assure anyone who would listen that he was all right.

As the doctors filed out once again, Robert moved to be beside his guest, reaching down to run his fingers through his hair. It was his way of apologising without admitting the blame he felt. He had asked Michael to dance with him because he was envious... because he wanted to be as happy as Enrique looked with Oliver in his arms - and in his selfishness, he had hurt the one he loved.

"I guess this means we won't be finishing our dance?"  
"I guess not."  
"Kiss me goodnight, then?" Michael asked hopefully.  
Robert bent over him, barely touching his lips with a ghost of a kiss, before returning to his full height. "Sweet dreams."  
"Yeah..." His guest agreed dismally. It was nice, but it wasn't the kind of kiss he'd been hoping for. "Sweet dreams."

* * * * *

He didn't want to do something like this in Robert's castle, but it had been that very person who had driven him to it. Reaching under the covers, he ran his hand over his disappointed penis, stirring it into remembrance of what it had felt barely two hours ago.

He gave a soft moan, biting his bottom lip to keep himself quiet. The walls were soundproof, but sounds as incriminating as _that_ could be heard through almost _anything_.

Arching his back into his caress, he fought the need to cry out Robert's name. He thought of how it had felt to have the knight so close, rubbing against him as if they were already in the throes of heated lovemaking.

He wanted the handsome purple-haired youth inside him, and behind his closed eyelids his vivid imagination presented him with exactly what he needed to make his stroking harder and faster.  
"Robert..." He whimpered, biting his lip as soon as it had escaped his mouth.

He spread his legs, the bed sheets sliding from his raised knees and baring his aroused body to the tapestry unicorns and dragons that watched him from the walls with their dead eyes.

Robert would take him slowly - Michael was sure he wouldn't have it any other way. Slowly and gently... like a form of erotic torture. The All Star threw his head back and moaned through his teeth, imagining it was _Robert's_ hand bringing him to climax.

* * * * *

Managing to manoeuvre the doorknob with his forearms, Michael slipped out into the corridor and ran to the nearest bathroom. Breathing a sigh of relief as he leant against the door, he was glad he had not encountered any of Robert's staff on the way. Masturbating over thoughts of their master and then washing away the evidence was not something he wanted to get caught doing.

Working the soap into an extra thick lather and then wiping his hands down several times, he stepped back out of the room and jumped in fright as he saw Oliver standing in the hall. 

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" He scolded playfully.  
"No. Why?"  
"That bandage on your leg is a dead give-away. What if Robert caught you wandering the halls like this?"  
Michael rolled his eyes. "What's he going to do - spank me?"  
The French boy giggled, the idea obviously appealing to his naughty side.

"Oh?" He was reminded of his curiosity that needed to be satisfied. "How did it go with Robert? You were both up here so long, I assumed he'd finally come to his senses."  
"Nothing happened." The taller boy insisted, guiltily hiding his hands behind his back.  
"Honestly, I don't know how he does it. You're _gorgeous_ , and if I were him, I'd be all over you."

Michael gave an awkward smile, not knowing which of his mental images was making him the most uncomfortable - Oliver jumping him, or Robert jumping him in the same hyperactive way he imagined Oliver would.

"I mean it." He persisted, his purple eyes wide and dark with candour. "And that _is_ an invitation. Okay?"

Where was he ten minutes ago when Michael _really_ needed him?

"Look, Oliver..." He began, not really sure how he was going to end the sentence. "I..."  
"There's Robert to consider. I know. I'm just saying that my door's always open if you ever get tired of waiting for him to sort out his feelings."

Something was definitely wrong with him - he was going to turn down an offer from the prettiest creature to ever proposition him! Even if Oliver wasn't his type, it didn't mean he couldn't _sample the goods_. He would have before... before he'd woken up in this castle; before he'd fallen for Robert.

It had to be love which stopped him. He hated love.

Robert lay awake, thinking about the disaster of a day he'd just lived through. But his mind kept taking him back to the taste and feel of Michael's tongue in his mouth, and the way the boy had suckled at _his_ tongue. He'd never been kissed like _that_ before, and then to have been treated to it twice in the one day, it was little wonder that he found himself hoping he'd experience it again very soon.

Michael brought out a side of him he never knew he had... a wild, hungry side. He didn't know whether to be scared of it, or embrace it and see where it took him.

And finally, to the most recent of his concerns - how easily Michael could ask him about deviant intentions, as if it were nothing. If Robert was going to take someone to his bed, there would have to be no doubt in his mind that it was true love he felt for them.

The thought of Michael sharing his perfect body with whoever he had in the past not only disgusted his moral side, but filled him with a strange envy. It didn't matter if he became just another name on Michael's list of lays - he _wanted_ to be part of that list. At least it would prove what he felt for the boy, even if nothing further eventuated.

It had to be love which inspired such desires. He hated love.


	12. Chapter 12

Judy's demands for the return of her star player were becoming far too regular and increasingly hostile. So much so that Robert wished he could avoid taking her calls.

Between her asking for Michael's return to America, and Johnny's insistence that the boy should have been thrown out of the castle the moment he regained consciousness (if not before), Robert couldn't help wondering if he was doing the right thing.

 _Of course you are!_ He assured himself for the hundredth time. Michael had been seriously wounded, the likes of which not even Ray could sympathise with, and Robert had saved his life. The least Judy and Johnny could do was allow him some time to appreciate and understand that life.

But he had made the mistake of falling in love, and if he wasn't careful... if he didn't plan every move way ahead of time... he might very well do something foolish - and that was all Judy needed to give her an excuse to take Michael back.

The telephone screamed into the silence of early morning once again, and Robert was tempted to palm the woman off on poor Gustav when he brought the receiver to his master.

It was selfish of him, he knew, and he despised himself because of it - but he was glad Michael had had a relapse, even if he didn't show it. It meant he got to keep him for a little while longer. Telling Judy his intentions to do so, however, was going to be difficult.

She'd had the nerve to yell at him during their last phone conversation, and the memory put him in a foul mood for the present one. He had no doubt she would yell at him again when he told her Michael would have to stay for another few days.

A few days...

Was that all that was left?

How was he going to let him go after that?

Judy wanted to know why, how, when... things he was not prepared to explain - and his refusal to answer only made her angrier.

 _"No more excuses, Robert! I'm sure he's well enough to travel already. I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt this time, but Emily and I **will** be there next week to pick him up - with or without **your doctors' permission**."_  
"Judy, I-" He cut his sentence short upon realising it would only be said to dial tone.

So, he had a week. Seven precious days...

* * * * *

_Everything was blurry... and cold. Very, very cold. All he could see was an expanse of white with ghosts of other colours bleeding into it. There was someone else with him, he could sense them... and he heard the soft crunch of them kneeling on the icy ground. More white as he tried to see who it was. White... and orange._

_It hurt so much - the cold against his wounds. Clinging to his consciousness with everything he had, he didn't even have the strength to cry out when a sharp finger was thrust into one of the gashes on his outstretched arm._

_"Had enough, All Star?"_

The voice that had eluded Michael in Russia screamed as he woke up with a start. His nightmare's end could not have come at a worse time. Robert was standing in the doorway; his stony face was etched with anger and Griffolyon glowed with the very same emotion from his vest's pocket.

"Tala?" He spat the name as if the very thought of saying it disgusted him. "Tala was the one who hurt you?"  
Michael shook his head, still separating past from present. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
"You just screamed for him to stop."

"So?" The bed-ridden boy argued back. "Not that it's any of your business, but maybe I was having a nightmare about Trygle being stolen."  
"And maybe you should not lie to me."  
"Let it go, Robert. It happened so long ago, and I'm almost completely recovered. If I ever see him again, I'll kick his sorry ass."  
"It is that sort of reckless behaviour which got you into this in the first place."

"Are you saying you're not even a little glad I got into _this_?" He seductively raised a burgundy eyebrow.  
Robert frowned, clearly not impressed. Yes, he _was_ glad - but damned if he was ever going to admit it. He repeated his question, louder in the hope it would receive a better answer. "What I want to know is if Tala was the one who hurt you?"

"No... I mean, I don't know." Vicious welts were no more than pale scars as he looked at his arm where the Demolition Boys' captain had prodded him. "I remember him touching me after I fell..."

That was all the information Robert needed. Confirmation that Tala was at the scene of the attack doubtlessly meant his team had been there as well. The chivalrous code bred into him demanded he exact revenge. But how? And when?

"Robert?"  
"I have to take care of some arrangements, if you will excuse me." The nobleman's mind was elsewhere as he made to leave the room. "Stay here. I will have someone bring some breakfast to you momentarily."  
"But I'm..." Michael's sentence trailed off as Robert disappeared around the doorframe. "...okay."

Deciding not to wait, the All Star jumped down from his bed, surprised and relieved when his knee didn't give way. Throwing on his usual attire, which was, as always, washed, ironed and folded on the small table under his window, he made his way downstairs without any problems.

Heading toward the dining hall with a familiarity like he had lived in the castle his entire life, he found the door shut and the surrounding corridors strangely absent of servants.

"Mikey..." Enrique's hand clamped down on his shoulder from behind. "You might not want to go in there."  
"Why?"  
"Johnny's... uhh, _a bit cranky_ this morning."  
"Worse than last night?"  
"Oh yeah." The Italian shrugged it off like it happened all the time. "So to be safe, let's go eat in the south dining room. Oliver's made some wicked pancakes for us."  
"Johnny doesn't scare me." Michael snorted proudly, marching forward.

Scared him? No. Annoyed him? Yes. Going into the room knowing full well what was awaiting him was as stupid as walking into a hornets' nest and expecting not to get stung. But Michael did it - determined to prove that he wasn't going to let some malignant little rich kid intimidate him.

"I thought I told you to piss off, Enrique!" Johnny bellowed the moment the door opened, his frown growing deeper when he saw who was in place of his team mate. "You?!"  
"Yeah, me." Michael spat back, equally as hostile.  
"What do _you_ want?" The Scottish boy stabbed his unfortunate breakfast, almost daring to snap his knife blade in half as it hit his plate with a loud crack. "And it better be good."

"I'm here for breakfast."  
"Go eat with Oliver and Enrique, and leave me the hell alone."  
Michael pulled up a seat opposite his rival. "And miss out on your delightful company?"  
"You're playing with fire, Parker."  
"And you're all talk, McGregor."

Johnny raised an eyebrow, his lips twisting into a wry smile like he'd just sucked on an extra-bitter lemon. "You wanna try me?"  
"Oh, please." Michael chuckled. " _You_ against _me_? I'm the best blader in America-"  
"You're talking to the British champion, you know - and you're not impressing me."  
"Care to take this to the stadium?"  
He leapt up. "It's about time I put you in your place. Ready to lose?"

Enrique was on his way back to Oliver when Johnny, with Michael in pursuit, passed him. Interested in finding out what the pair were up to, he changed his course and followed them to Robert's training room.

* * * * *

In the south dining room, Oliver sipped at his cup of tea, waiting for his friend to return. He wasn't particularly concerned it was taking so long - Enrique didn't have much of an attention span, and had probably wandered off to something which promised him more excitement than eating pancakes and drinking tea.

He sighed, watching the steam from his cup dance and quickly disperse in front of him. It was then he noticed Robert standing opposite him, waiting to be acknowledged by the dreamy boy.

"Oh, Robert! I didn't see you there." His girlie face lit up in a huge smile. "Sit down, and have something to eat."  
"Where are the others?"  
He shrugged. "Enrique went to see Johnny in the dining hall."  
Satisfied with the answer, his captain took a seat and leant over the table, gesturing for him to do the same.

"Can I ask you something personal?"  
"Of course!" He chirped with an enthusiasm that worried Robert.  
"I have never been... _intimate_ with another man before. Is there anything I should know?"  
The effeminate boy frowned, taking a dramatically angry sip of his tea. "What makes you think _I'd_ know?"  
"Oh Oliver, _please_. Save the innocent act for someone who does not know you."  
"Fine!" He huffed. "I've never been on top though - and that's where you want to be, right?"  
Deep red stained Robert's cheeks. "Well, what did this other fellow do to you?"

"Wow." Oliver's teacup never made it back to his lips. "You're serious?"  
"I would not ask if I was not."  
"I don't know what to tell you, Robert..."  
"Whatever you say will not leave this room, you have my word."


	13. Chapter 13

Enrique listened to the feisty pair trash-talk each other, wondering why they both didn't just drop their pants and prove who the bigger man was then and there. Instead, Trygle and Salamalyon were forced to duke it out for them.

"You don't get it, do you? You're not even _close_ to Robert's level. How can you think you stand a chance with him? You can get on your knees for him every day and it's not going to make a difference in the end. Once his family finds out, they'll run you out of town."  
"And I bet you can't wait to tell them, right?"  
"I do what I have to." Johnny answered sourly. "Someone has to protect the knights' code of honour, since Robert's obviously not thinking with his _brain_ at the moment."  
"What- _ever_! I think Robert knows what he wants better than _you_ do."

"Salamalyon, attack that pathetic excuse for a blade!" The highlander broke the argument for a moment to yell at his Bit Beast, before yelling at Michael again. "You're nothing but an amusement to Robert, and when the novelty of having a common lover wears off, what _are_ you going to do? He'll be as disgusted as I am with you."

Everything about Johnny just made Michael want to punch him in the face. Quick, simple - the boy would be on his back and he wouldn't have to look at that smug smirk again.

And before he could weigh up the cons of assaulting Robert's best friend, he'd dived across the dish and landed a punch square in his jaw - much to Johnny _and_ Enrique's horror.

The redhead backed away, his eyes wide and fierce as he gingerly touched the rising swell of the impact.  
"Son of a bitch!"  
He ran forward, tackling his opponent to the ground and returning the hit.

Enrique looked on helplessly, wanting to break them up, but not knowing who to grab as the fight got more and more violent. Back-up was needed. He fled the room, calling out for Robert's help. But the master of the castle was nowhere to be found.

In his desperation, he bolted to the south dining room, hoping Oliver was still there. Not that the delicate boy would be of much assistance physically, but he _was_ part of the Majestics, and Johnny's knightly code respected that.

"Oliver, come quick!" Enrique barged through the door in a panic, ignoring his friend's naughty smirk and Robert's blush. He was just relieved to have found them both. "Johnny and Michael are trying to kill each other!"

* * * * *

Robert and Enrique ran into the training room. Trygle and Salamalyon long forgotten, the American and Scot themselves were locked in a furious battle in the middle of the dish. With a hurried gesture for the blonde to grab Johnny, Robert took the other side, sliding his arm around Michael's waist and prising him away.

Enrique managed to restrain his target by hooking the boy's armpits in his elbows whilst the hot-tempered redhead struggled against him.

Oliver arrived shortly after, throwing himself between the pair, dodging Johnny's flailing arms and legs as he told him to calm down.

To his back, Robert stood with his arms wrapped tightly around his guest's waist. If the fight was allowed to go on, Michael's chances of winning were not very high, so he wisely let go of any spirit to continue. His opponent had landed quite a few nasty hits, leaving him with the foul taste of blood in his mouth and a cut on his brow. 

"Are you all so blind?!" Johnny yelled. "He's not one of us!"  
"That's no reason to beat him up." His small team mate argued back.  
"Shut the fuck up, Oliver! I wouldn't expect _you_ to understand."

Robert was furious - over Johnny's lack of self-control and of Michael's conceited need to take everything he said personally. He didn't want to know who and what had started the fight, all that mattered was putting an end to it and ensuring it wouldn't happen again. Both as stubborn as the other, he'd have the pair shackled together in his dungeon for the day if he thought it would give them some common sense.

Michael probably deserved everything he got, but if gaping wounds hadn't taught him anything, Robert doubted a couple of superficial cuts and bruises would either. He had no doubt that it was the boy's attitude which had seen him attacked by the Demolition Boys. He was just fortunate that it was Johnny and not Tala this time - and that Johnny had friends who didn't _want_ to see a fight.

"I will not tolerate this sort of behaviour - from either of you. You should both be ashamed of yourselves. Johnny, I expected better from you."  
The red-haired knight rolled his eyes. Robert was right... he _was_ better than that. Robert was _always_ right. 

"And Michael..." The nobleman madly searched for words that would not make it sound like he was favouring either of them. "What are you doing down here? You were given explicit instructions not to exert yourself."  
"Hey, look... I'm sorry, all right?" He said, without any audible conviction.

"Enrique, would you be so kind as to accompany Johnny to the infirmary?"  
The blonde nodded, his arms still tightly around the boy, even though he was no longer putting up a fight.  
"Oliver, go with them, please. We will join you there shortly."  
The green-haired Parisian smiled, happy to help in any way he could - and if that meant leaving the room so that Robert and Michael could be alone together, then he would. "Sure."

The three left the room amidst Johnny's insistence that Michael hadn't (and _couldn't_ ) hurt him - despite the tell-tale trickle of blood from his split lip; and Oliver shut the door behind them, leaving the pair to their privacy.

Robert cupped Michael's chin in his palms, his fingers running up either side of the boy's face.  
"Why?" He asked. "Why must you always disobey me?"  
"I didn't mean to hit him. He just wouldn't let up..."  
"I am not talking about that." The knight pulled his guest close, so close their foreheads touched. "I am talking about leaving your room when you were told to stay there. How can I protect you when you will not listen to me?"

When they kissed, Robert tasted blood in Michael's mouth, and it only reinforced his argument.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry for everything." The American boy wrapped his arms around his taller companion, his words muffled as he spoke into his chest. "Johnny's right - I _don't_ belong here."  
"I do not care what he thinks. _I_ want you here." Robert returned the embrace. "We should get those injuries looked at."  
"I'm okay - he hits like a girl." His guest didn't mention what kind of girl (one with a mean left hook, that was for sure), he just wanted to stay in Robert's arms for as long as possible.

"I think we should still make sure you are all right. That cut on your forehead looks bad."  
"I'm okay." Michael insisted. "The doctors are only going to tell me off again, and I can get _that_ at home."

The knight tightened his grip at the mentioning of the boy's return to America.  
"Besides," He continued, "I can think of much better things to do..."


	14. Chapter 14

Michael's tongue darted out, running across his knight's lips with promises of what was to come. He kissed Robert's jaw, and down his neck, peeling back the neckline of his tunic to taste all that he could of the soft flesh.  
"Michael..." He gasped, not sure what else to do but throw his head back and enjoy what his more experienced lover was doing to him.

Hearing Robert's aristocratic voice almost strangled with desire as it whispered his name only made Michael want to please him even more.  
"Lie down." He murmured against his skin.  
"In the dish?!"  
"Why not?" The younger boy chuckled and shrugged. "We are team captains after all... it makes sense that we should be here."

Robert didn't understand Michael's logic, but it _was_ a reason nonetheless. He would never be able to look at the room the same way again. Once used for quiet reflection and intense training, he'd only be able to think of how sexy Michael looked standing with him at that very moment; his hair and clothes ruffled from his fight, his skin glowing under the yellow candlelight, blood dribbling down his forehead and pooling in his eyebrow-

He reached up to the wound, smearing red across the boy's skin as he tried to wipe it away. "That needs attention."  
"Later." Michael dismissed his concern, grabbing Robert by the collar and pulling him into a kiss that would have made all their previous ones blush.

* * * * *

" _What_ is wrong with you?" Enrique demanded the moment the threesome where safely down the hallway. " _That_ is _not_ the way we handle things."  
"What did you want me to do - stand there and take it like a chump?"

They weren't the words the blonde would have used to describe it. "Yes, that's _exactly_ what you should have done. Do you have any idea what Robert's going to think of you now?"  
" _I_ didn't start the fight."  
"I wouldn't say that, more like - you didn't throw the first punch." The Italian boy corrected. "But you were sure going to finish it."  
Johnny gave one of his trademark cackles. "Yeah."

"You know you've only made things worse for yourself?"  
"You think Robert's going to take _Parker's_ side?!"  
"There aren't any _sides_." Oliver pointed out. "It sounds like you're jealous."  
"Of _him_?!" Johnny sounded offended. "What have I got to be jealous about?"

* * * * *

Michael knelt, dragging Robert - still very attached to his mouth, with him. He laid his lover down on the cobblestone surface of the dish, where they continued their kiss - their lips parting only to take hurried breaths before returning to taste the other again.

The knight wanted to cry out for him to stop. Armed with a vague description of something Oliver had found enjoyable, mixed with the fear that someone could walk through the training room's door at any time, he wasn't prepared to do anything too extreme. Having Michael straddling his waist and kissing him with the kind of passion he'd been taught to avoid, was quite enough of a risk.

Michael drew the zip down Robert's front as he moved to kiss the heaving chest beneath him. Hands hurried to run under the thin white cloth, feeling what his lips could not for the moment. His fingers grazed over a nipple, tweaking it playfully and making its owner squirm.

Pushing the tunic up and out of the way, Michael worked his way down Robert's trembling body - every breath the knight expelled making him shiver in anticipation. The All Star obviously knew what he was doing - he never hesitated, running a line down the middle of Robert's stomach with hot, determined kisses.

The Majestic was going through everything Oliver had told him in his head, trying to keep up. Was Michael equally as wild on his back? Robert was fast realising that even with a crash course in intimacy, he was still way out of his league.

When he didn't protest or make up some flimsy excuse as to why he had to leave, Michael decided to take his seduction up several notches and see how far he could get without scaring him off.

The younger boy's fringe tickled as it followed him down, brushing against already aroused skin. He ran his hand up Robert's thigh, veering over his groin to caress his swollen erection through tight red fabric.

"Michael?!" His voice was as strained as his pants. His hands were poised to push the boy away, but he _wanted_ this. This was the very stuff Oliver had told him about that made him blush so much he thought his face would catch fire.

"Relax..." The American assured him, uncoupling the button on the knight's waistband. "Just lay back and enjoy the ride."

* * * * *

"All right then... " Johnny folded his arms defiantly. Just because Oliver was right didn't mean he had to admit he'd lost the argument. "I _am_ jealous. I'm scared that if Robert gets involved with someone, he's not going to have time for us. Where does that leave the Majestics?"  
The other pair were a devil's advocate tag-team. Enrique put a friendly arm around the boy and felt him tense up instantly. "I've got Rosetta and Bianca, and you've got a girlfriend back home too, don't you?"  
"So?"  
"They don't take away from _our_ dedication to the cause."  
"That's because they know their place." Johnny growled, raising his fist as if to punch his girlfriend if she dare take on any of Michael's traits.

"Be still my beating heart! Johnny, you're such a romantic." Oliver observed sarcastically, making the target of his taunt scowl. "So why isn't Robert allowed the same privilege as us?"  
"He's our captain - his team should be his first priority! I risked everything my clan stands for to be part of the Majestics - do you know what my family will think of me if we break up now?"  
"It's always about _you_ , isn't it?"  
"And why shouldn't it be?! I'm the only one who's making any sense around here!" He spat back. "I'm not going to let Robert ruin what I've - _what we've_ \- worked so hard for with this pea-brained infatuation of his!"  
Enrique shook his head disdainfully. "The only _pea-brained infatuation_ I see is the one _you_ have to destroy Robert's chance at happiness."

* * * * *

"Michael, no - I cannot... this is too much too fast!"

Robert's innocence was cute, he had to admit. At some of the wilder parties he attended in the past, none of the guys he'd known for less than five minutes argued that he was doing too much when he got on his knees for them.

"I promise I'll be gentle." He sang, sickly sweet as he freed Robert's arousal from its tight confines.

The purple-haired boy looked on, horrified and excited all at once. His servants had dressed and undressed him every day of his life, but he had never bared his skin to an outsider before. He wanted to shove Michael away and regain what he could of his tattered modesty, but as the boy's experienced hand encircled him, everything but sheer rapture fled his mind.

Michael's lips had barely touched the tip of Robert's engorged masculinity before the nobleman let out a choked gasp. He planted a soft kiss on the head and then parted his lips to allow his tongue to swirl around it.  
"Uhh..." The knight moaned, only taking his eyes off the display for a moment to enjoy nothing but the _feel_ of it - of Michael's hot, wet mouth engulfing his entire length.

Being touched like that was completely new to him. He didn't know if there was something he was supposed to do in return. Michael _had_ told him to relax, but he found himself running his fingers through the boy's hair.

The simple act of affection spurred Michael on. His lips, tight around Robert's needy member, slid up and down, meeting with his hand as it clenched and unclenched around the base. Faster and faster, each dip more passionate than the last, threatening to suck the rigid flesh clean from its owner.

"Michael...!" His hand curled into a fist, gripping tightly to the very roots of his lover's hair, as his hips bucked with the expulsion of his maiden orgasm.

Michael messily swallowed down what he could; his chin and hand dripping with what he had missed, looking like the late-night porn stars Robert had always hastily flicked past on his cable channels.

So dirty... so common. It aroused him on a primeval level he never knew existed - that he had never been allowed to know existed. His well-bred wife would no doubt be a strict, frigid woman, expected to give herself to him only for the sake of an heir. Lust was something he was never meant to feel... especially not for a boy - a boy with no title, who had swallowed down his precious semen for something as pointless as lewd enjoyment. And Robert loved it.

He wanted to lay back, close his eyes and savour the feeling of his first orgasm, but watching Michael suck his fingers free of what he had left behind was a temptation too good to refuse. Most of his face was obscured by his long, spiky fringe, but his mouth was very visible.

But something was wrong with him... Robert could see it in the way he began to sway, almost as if he were trying to keep his balance.  
"I've fucked up again..." The All Star reached one of his hands up behind his mass of hair to his forehead, and when he brought it down, it was covered in blood.


	15. Chapter 15

Robert's first and foremost duty was to protect his charge. Not even thinking about how it would appear to everyone outside the room, he removed his shirt, bundled it up and pressed it to the wound. Quickly doing his pants up, he rose to his feet and helped Michael to his.

He was dizzy from a mixture of adrenaline, blood loss and repeatedly moving his head back and forth so fast. Still aware of his surroundings, he had the mind to grab for Trygle as he was awkwardly yanked to stand.  
Slumping in Robert's arms, the knight could only just make out some of the words Michael was muttering to himself about his beautiful face and not wanting Johnny to see him in his present condition.

Robert sighed angrily. It was the boy's pride which had got him into the fight in the first place. He didn't want to embarrass him, but if they met Johnny along the way, some humility would do Michael good. The last thing Robert wanted was for him to get involved in a third fight which, going by his current pattern, he would lose.

"And give me that." Robert demanded, holding his hand out.  
"What?!" The All Star asked angrily, tightening his grip on Trygle. "No!"

After what he'd just done for the knight, he expected to be treated a little nicer.

"It is the only way I can stop you from getting into trouble. I will give it back to you before you go home."  
"You sound like my fourth grade teacher."  
"Well then, perhaps you should have listened to your fourth grade teacher and we would not be having this argument right now."  
"Robert!"

The owner of the name wasn't listening to the stream of words which followed. He was staring at Michael's mouth, lost in the thought of how much he had loved the feel of it around his most sensitive area.  
"What's wrong?" The boy took the crumpled up shirt away from his forehead and looked at it before quickly putting it back on the wound.  
There was a long silence before Robert realised he had been caught out. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

* * * * *

"Goddamn it." Johnny poked at his split lip as he studied the damage in the bathroom mirror. It was the least of his worries compared to the bruise that was slowly colouring the side of his face. "I'm going to kill Parker for this!"  
"Settle down and put this back on." Oliver held out the crude ice pack Enrique had hastily thrown together from the kitchen. "I don't know why you won't go see the doctor."  
"I don't _need_ a doctor."

Enrique and Oliver exchanged angry looks. Johnny could not be reasoned with - he never listened to anyone other than Robert, and sometimes it was questionable if he took any notice of what his captain had to say anyway. They endured his swearing and rambling, occasionally offering advice they knew he wouldn't take, hoping that Robert would show up as soon as he was finished with Michael.

It was taking him a long time, Oliver noted with a mischievous grin to himself - either Michael was really hurt, or they were enjoying each other's company... long and slow, just like he'd told Robert to take it.

When the knight finally made his way to the bathroom he'd been told the three had disappeared into, his flushed face told one story, but his brows angrily knitted together told quite another.

"What have you got to say for yourself, Johnny?" He demanded, not even acknowledging his other two friends, who had jumped in fright at his sudden intrusion.  
The highlander, however, took it all in his stride. "If you're looking for an apology, you're not getting one. I'm glad I hit him."  
"Michael needed stitches, you know. You burst open one of his scars."  
"Good." Johnny smirked before returning the ice pack to his face. "I wish I'd hit him harder."  
"You and I both know that we _never_ attack our opponents physically."  
"He hit me first!"  
"And you think hitting him back makes you the better man?"  
"I don't like him, Robert."  
"Then while you are both guests in _my_ castle, you will stay away from him!" It was not a request, it was a shouted demand that made Johnny physically cringe.

Oliver was wrong - there _were_ sides, and he was on the losing one.

"All right?" Robert asked for confirmation that his order had been received and understood.  
"Okay, okay." Johnny nodded slowly. "I'll leave him alone - but this doesn't mean I agree with what you're doing."

There was so much more the knight wanted to say, but fearing a reprisal from his fiery friend, he gave a small bow of thanks and left the room.

Michael, severely testing his host's patience, had disobeyed Robert's request and was not in his quarters when the knight returned to check on him. Much like a caged animal, the boy grew tired of his surroundings, and was seeking out new ways to stir some excitement into his otherwise dreary life - and if it meant infuriating his master, then so be it.

Robert didn't have the patience, nor the heart, to keep him like that.

* * * * *

"I am _so_ sorry." Enrique apologised as the trio of boys headed out into the gardens. "If I'd known Johnny was going to do something like that, I would've tried a lot harder to talk you out of going into the dining hall."  
Michael shrugged. "Yeah, right... I would have gone in anyway."

"Are you okay? Robert said he got you pretty bad."  
"I'm fine... no worse than I was before, anyway."  
"Good, 'cause I was wondering..." The blonde trailed off before finding his words again. "If you'd... show me some of your baseball moves?"  
Michael grinned. "Sure. I just don't know how good I'll be any more though; it's been a while."

Robert watched them from the window, snorting at Gustav's suggestion that he should join them, when inside he ached to do just that. He couldn't compare to Enrique's effervescence as he swang his makeshift bat, or Oliver's enthusiasm as he hooted and cheered like he were part of a much larger audience. It just wasn't in him to be fun.

The first time he had ever dared to let his guard down; to actually enjoy his surroundings... was when Michael had shown him true bliss earlier in the training room.

His grip tightened on the windowsill as he thought of how wonderful the feeling of wild abandon had been. He yearned to feel it again, and he hated himself for it. Since when did he - the cold, emotionless Sir Robert Jürgens - give in to desires of the flesh?

Part of him wanted to scream at Michael for making him so weak, whilst the other part wanted to scream at the mercy of the boy's sexual prowess.

It was obvious just looking at the American captain, he wasn't completely recovered from his injuries. But Robert was learning that he couldn't control him, as much as he might have wanted to. Yelling at him for disobeying orders would only make Michael angry.

_So let the boy play._  
He wants to.  
And if he hurts himself, you may get to keep him longer... 

A terrible thought... A _selfish_ thought. What was he doing to himself?!

Robert collapsed on the leather lounge, reaching for the remote control and turning the television on. It had been left on the sports channel, and the nobleman smiled when he thought of who was obviously last watching it.

Advertisements for all sorts of sports shows flickered before his eyes, none really catching his attention until he saw a shock of burgundy hair. By popular demand, the Bladebreakers' phenomenal rise to fame in the Beyblading world was being shown in a best-of series. And Robert found himself engrossed in the highlights of the American tournament.

He had fallen asleep during the live coverage, barely managing to stay awake for the Tyson versus Steven battle, and missing the other two completely. Not that he cared back then.

Michael flashed a cheeky grin at the camera and it startled Robert as he sat riveted to the screen. His guest was _not_ the captain of the All Starz. What he had was a meek, submissive husk of the over-confident show-off displayed on the television before him. His Michael looked and sounded exactly the same, but the fire in his beautiful blue eyes was gone.

 _"This kid doesn't stand a chance against me."_ He boasted to the reporter while preparations for the tie-breaking third match were being made. _"And I speak for the entire team when I say - with my superior skills, victory will be ours!"_

What had Robert done to him? Did he love Michael... or did he love the person he had forced him to become?

Lust made him want to keep the boy... but love knew he had to let him go. He reached over for the phone and dialled the long string of numbers to connect him to the All Starz' training facility.

"Judy?"  
_"Robert? What's wrong?"_  
"I think it would be best if..." He stumbled over his words, wanting to stop himself from saying them. "...if Michael returned home as soon as possible."


	16. Chapter 16

He put the telephone down and closed his eyes.

"All right!" Michael cheered as he entered the room, throwing himself onto the couch beside Robert. "Sports channel!"  
The other boy didn't acknowledge him... it was if he was already gone. It would save him the heartache of saying goodbye if he thought like that.

"That was awesome! I haven't had so much fun in, like, forever! Enrique's got a lot of talent for the game - I'd be out of a job if Judy got her hands on him. So, what are we watching?"  
There was no answer from the knight, forcing Michael to prompt him into speaking.  
"Robert?"  
"The American Beyblade Tournament." He replied simply. "That is what I am watching."  
The All Star raised an eyebrow, smirking stupidly as he asked, "So, who's winning?"

It brought a small smile to Robert's lips. "I am hoping that beautiful redhead will break the tie."  
"I'll tell Emily you said that."

After a chuckle over the joke, the pair settled into silence. The seemingly endless torture of the American tournament's highlights kept playing on the screen, and Robert felt Michael tense up as he watched it. Reaching over, the All Star snatched up the remote control and flicked the television off.

"I don't want to see that." He confessed. "I miss the guys and Emily so much... and I'm so out of practise. Look at this!"  
Robert turned to see Michael grabbing at a small roll of flab on his stomach through his shirt, the likes of which only a supermodel or an elite sportsperson would be concerned about.

"I like it." Robert soothed his concerns, running his hand across the boy's belly.  
His reassuring caress became an embrace; his arm wrapping around Michael's waist, pulling him closer.  
Their kiss was as bitter as it was sweet - the lump of sadness in Robert's throat all but choking him.

Michael slid from his grasp, kneeling between Robert's legs. He'd been given new limits... he wanted to explore them as much as he could.

"No... not here!" The knight shook his head defiantly. "What if someone was to walk in on us?"  
Michael gave a cheeky grin. "I hope it's Johnny."  
"As amusing as that might seem to you, I certainly do not need any more grief from him right now." He grew very serious. "Besides, there are other more important matters to take care of."  
"Like what?"

"I spoke with Judy a moment ago... she will be here tomorrow to take you back home." He said sadly, unable to bring himself to look at Michael. "We should ready your things."  
"Yeah, I guess so..." The American boy agreed distantly, not knowing whether he was shocked or disappointed at the news. He knew the time would come, he just had not expected it so suddenly. He thought that Judy would be the one to tell him, and perhaps... Robert would have fought to keep him longer. "I'll... go get ready, I guess..."

Michael made his way out of the room, shutting the door behind him. All he had were the clothes on his back. He just needed Trygle... and his heart back, and he was ready to go.

The hallways seemed a lot colder and darker than before. This was it - the last night he would spend in this castle. This time tomorrow, he would be back in his own room at the All Starz' training centre. No more halls lined with creepy suits of armour lit by smoky sconces, everything would be clinically white and bathed in harsh fluorescent light. His huge, four-poster bed in a room decorated with elaborate tapestries of mythological creatures would be replaced by his cramped, single bed surrounded by sports posters and pennants. He had spent so long wanting to go home that he hadn't noticed how much he had come to like Jürgens Castle.

He would never belong here, as much as he might try to fit in; but his loud personality would ensure that he didn't. He knew he grated on Robert's nerves. They were just too opposite to ever be friends, let alone live together. But perhaps, they were perfect to be lovers... even if it was for just one night.

It was a chance Michael was willing to take - if Robert laughed at him, it didn't matter because they would never have to see each other again.

* * * * *

"What are you doing with _that_?" Johnny asked, catching a glimpse of orange in Robert's hand as the older boy entered one of the many sitting rooms. "Griffolyon not crappy enough for you?"  
"Be quiet! Michael is going home tomorrow and I promised I would give it back to him before then."  
"He's finally leaving?" The redhead's lazy slouch was replaced with a posture which said he was suddenly very interested in what Robert had to say.  
"Yes." He nodded sadly. "Judy and Emily will be here in the morning."  
"That's too bad... I was hoping we'd become best friends."

Robert scowled at the cruel sarcasm. And like the obnoxious little brother the nobleman thought of him as, Johnny scowled back at him.  
"I do not care what you think of him."  
"Well maybe you should start."  
"No... not about this. I..." He stammered, wondering if it were a sentence best suited to continue with Oliver. "I love-"  
The redhead clapped his hands over his ears. "I'm not hearing this!"  
"I knew you would not understand." He muttered as he wandered off again... lost in his own castle.

* * * * *

How could he show Michael how much he loved him with barely twelve hours of his company left? There wasn't time to organise anything extravagant. All he had was himself... his body, and what it longed to do to the boy.

A night of 'farewell sex' - could he indulge in something so fickle? He wanted Michael. He wanted him so badly that it hurt - and now he had the chance, he hesitated?

 _Want_ was not the right word for what he felt. After spending several weeks being so close to the boy, he _needed_ him. Needed him not just for one night of empty physical satisfaction; he needed him to be his lover.

"I do not know what to do..." Robert ran his hand through his purple spikes as he looked up at a painting in his private quarters. "I do not know how I could let this happen."  
Paint daubs, designed to look like eyes, stared back at him with no answer.  
"I have fallen in love with him, Father... Your son is in love with a common, American boy. Are you ashamed of me?"  
Silence.  
"I want him... I want him like I have never wanted for anything before."

There was a knock at the door, and Enrique invited himself in.  
"We're going now, Robert. Oliver's already in the car... you know how much he hates goodbyes."  
The knight nodded, too many other things on his mind to have anything left to say to his blonde friend.  
"Oh, and would you say bye to Michael for me? He's such a great guy - I can't wait to see another of his games! You should really come with us next time the girls and I go to America."  
"Maybe I will." Robert agreed, wearing his constant expression of indifference, despite the turmoil his heart was currently in - and Enrique's praise of the All Star was only making things worse.

"...You know, Oliver thinks you're an idiot for letting him go."  
"I am aware of that."  
"Well, I agree with him."  
"You judge me without knowing the whole story." Robert answered distantly, not intending to elaborate any further.

Enrique gave a loud, over-dramatic sigh. "Have you ever been happy in your entire life, Robert?"  
"My happiness is not important. My family name is."  
"Whatever floats your boat, big guy. I'll see you later." He slapped his captain on the back as he made to leave the room. "Just don't mess things up, okay?"

Robert snorted. How could he possibly make more of a mess than things currently were? It would be best if he did nothing to encourage any further mistakes. He would take a hot bath, and would then retire to the comfort of his bed to sleep on his thoughts and decisions. There would be so much to take care of in the morning.


	17. Chapter 17

"Okay, what's wrong?" Enrique had been watching Oliver stare out of the limousine window for the majority of their trip from Jürgens Castle to the airport.  
"I was thinking about Robert..." The French boy sighed. "...and, for such an intelligent guy, how stupid he's being."  
"Just because he's going about things a little _different_ to what _you_ would-"  
"What do you mean by _that_?"  
"Like you don't know!" The blonde laughed. "Would Michael have even regained consciousness before you made your first move on him?"  
"Give me _some_ credit. And for your information, I _did_ wait until he was awake."

"You propositioned him?!"  
"Of _course_ I did." Oliver didn't give the ridiculous question much thought before answering. "But... he turned me down for Robert - and Robert's too blind to do anything about it!"

" _You_ have to give _him_ more credit." As their ride came to a stop, Enrique winked knowingly as he leapt out onto the entrance way of the airport, reaching back into the limousine to take Oliver's hand in a chivalrous gesture to help him out. "I have a feeling things will work out."  
"It better - otherwise my goodbye present to Michael will be of no use at all."

* * * * *

Michael crept out of his room and into the dark corridor, lit only by a few dying candles. Robert had pointed out on several occasions that the passageways leading to his private quarters were littered with medieval traps and Michael would be wise not to tread them without someone who knew the castle well to guide him.

Traps or no traps, he had to show Robert how he felt about him - tonight. So he made his way down the halls carefully; slicked and ready to go the moment he found his target's bedroom, thanks to Oliver's thoughtful parting gift of a tube of lubricant.

He thought it best to use it before he went to Robert's room - nothing would kill the mood like catching a glimpse of Oliver's private phone number emblazed in permanent marker across the tube in big curly numerals.

 _"I was hoping we would use it... together."_ The little green-haired boy had whispered, slipping it into Michael's hand. _"Well, maybe later - call me, okay? Until then, show Robert a good time!"_

Subtle, the boy was definitely not. Michael had been the same way... before finding true love. Before Robert.

Opening the double doors at the end of a particularly wide hallway, he was confronted by a huge room with another ornate door on the opposite wall. Lines of old, peeling paintings of purple-haired men in their finest armour hung adjacent either side of it, lit by gilded candelabras in each corner. A shrine to the Jürgens men of history... and they all watched him - _judged him_ \- as he passed.

Michael swallowed hard. He was without a past, without a family... with a future which barely extended beyond the plan of getting laid within the next few minutes. Johnny was right - Robert _was_ too good for him.

"Fuck you." He muttered to himself - and to anyone who stood in his way. And he opened the doors to Robert's bedroom.

The figure in the enormous bed stirred in waking, and upon realising he was not alone, bolted upright to confront the intruder.

"Michael?! What are you doing here?"  
He stepped forward, closing the doors behind him with one fluid movement. "I don't want to go back... I want to stay here with you."  
"You _have_ to go back." Robert insisted, awake enough to put up a decent argument. "You have commitments in America. I will not allow you to disappoint your team."  
The boy shrugged off his jersey and tossed it aside. "I don't feel the same way about them any more."  
"The moment you see them again, you will change your mind."

"All I'll be able to see is you." Michael crossed his arms over his front and began to pull his t-shirt up.  
"Michael..." Robert spoke warily. "I do not know if I can do this..."  
The redhead pouted, the moonlight catching his glistening eyes and sad lip, making his noble lover wish he could rid himself of his frigidity... somehow. Robert was scared - of what he felt, and of what his body urged him to do.

"Well, let me inspire you..." The All Star suggested seductively after an uncomfortable silence, ridding himself of the last skerrick of his decency as his shorts pooled around his ankles on the floor.

Robert's eyes dropped for barely a second to survey his lover's goods, blushing furiously as he quickly returned to looking at the boy's face.

It hadn't been as embarrassing when he had seen Michael lying naked and unconscious after the doctors had first attended him. But seeing that same body, hot and aroused before him did things to him - things reminiscent of his time spent at the boy's mercy in the training room.

Robert sighed helplessly. If he wasn't allowed to stop, his inflamed libido would leave his pure soul in tatters before the end of the night!

The muscular silhouette, outlined in iridescent blue, crawled across the rich expanse of brocade and lace, pulling it from Robert's legs as the pair came face to face.

"Michael, I..."  
The burgundy-haired boy put his finger to his lips. "Don't talk."  
Completely opposite in everything else that they did, their actions complimented the other as he craned his neck to kiss Robert.

Their kiss could have gone on forever, neither wanting to leave the taste of the other's lips. But whilst Robert was a man of old-fashioned romance, Michael was a man of action. His fingers clawed through purple strands, pushing the nobleman deeper into his kiss.

Robert's hands were gentle and scared as they touched his lover's bare back for their embrace. Their tongues met, slowly, almost warily, as Michael's hands ventured under the hem of Robert's nightshirt, running up his leg.

It was strange. Robert's hesitation and genuine respect for the act made Michael feel the same way. He'd slept with countless men and women, and none had meant a single thing to him other than a night of empty pleasure. This night was different. He hadn't even felt shy or scared the first time he had let someone take him, but as he stared into Robert's sincere eyes, he did. This time, it meant something.

He ran silky fingers over his innocent lover's arousal, to tease and excite all at once, before continuing to lift the nightshirt up and over his trembling body.

"I've wanted this so much..." Michael whispered, moving in to straddle the knight's thighs and throw his arms around his neck.

Blue eyes locked with dark eyes, saying all that needed to be said as the younger boy carefully seated himself in Robert's lap and guided the pair to become one. Robert let out a small cry as the alien feeling of his length being smothered in his lover's firm confines became comfortable... pleasant... amazing. And Michael moaned as his body hungrily took it.

In silent agreement, their heads tilted and their lips opened for another kiss. Michael's arms wrapped tightly around Robert's shoulders and his legs did the same around his waist, pulling him deeper into his lap.

Robert cried out at the increase of pressure, his hips beginning to buck as he dug his fingertips into Michael's thighs.

The All Star began to lay back, tightening his arms around Robert's neck and pulling him down with him. On his back, he could spread his legs wider; and on top of him, Robert could thrust harder.

Michael threw his head back into the soft pillow, crying out like he was in pain as his fingers clenched between Robert's. The nobleman felt so good inside him. His innocence made him gentle, his instinct made him perfect.

"Oh, god... Robert!" He moaned, his insides afire with slick friction moving back and forth, in and out.

Sweaty bodies rubbed together, both breathless but in no hurry to stop. Kisses barely lasted a second between moans and gasps. Michael's legs wrapped tightly around Robert's back - their silhouette against the moonlit sky made them look like some awkward creature, rocking slowly as if to move forward, but never going anywhere. Neither awkward, nor wanting to be anywhere but in each other's loving embrace, their bodies told a different story to each other.

Michael's short gasps in time with Robert's thrusts complimented his lover's guttural moans as he pounded the hot flesh beneath him in a slow, steady rhythm. 

"Uhh...! Robert... please!"

So many new feelings were bombarding the knight that if he even heard the words, he didn't understand them. Only when Michael reached between them to start stroking himself, did he realise that the boy needed more stimulation to reach the climax they were both sweating so hard for.

All inhibition gone in the heat of their coupling, and only wanting his lover to feel as much pleasure as he did, Robert's hand curled around Michael's - their fingers once again interlocking - as they brought him to orgasm together.

His beautiful face, contorted with sheer ecstasy, was equally as arousing as the sight of his rippling abdomen splattered with the creamy evidence that Robert had done well. It drove the knight wild.

A deep, animal roar rose to his throat as he spilled himself into the boy. Again and again, in short, sharp bursts; filling him, claiming him. And it was over. Exhausted, he withdrew as he collapsed on his lover's equally sweaty body; their hasty breathing saying all that needed to be said - the experience had been more wonderful than either had hoped for. 

Catching his breath, Robert rolled onto his back, revelling in the afterglow of an evening well spent. Michael curled up against his side, nuzzling his head into his chest, and sighing contentedly before drifting off to sleep.

Robert's mind was abuzz with new feelings and concerns. He laid awake, staring out at the silver moon against the dark sky through his window, lazily twirling strands of Michael's hair around his finger. A night of passion had cost him his noble soul. He had given his virginity to a common boy, and tainted everything that had once been pure about himself.

And as he held that _common boy_ in his arms, he realised how little that mattered to him any more.

He loved Michael - he would shout it from the mountains which surrounded his castle, and he didn't care who heard it... or what price he would have to pay for it.


	18. Chapter 18

Giving his tunic one last tug down his thighs and fixing his vest's collar, Robert darted through winding corridors toward the opposite end of the castle. He smelled of aftershave and cologne, thinly disguising the musky scent of sweat and sex. Running splayed fingers through his scruffy hair, he hoped he would look presentable by the time he reached his destination.

He was exhausted, and leaving Michael sound asleep in his bed was both a shame and a risk that played heavily on his mind. He didn't even notice the other presence in one of his many sitting rooms as he hurried through it.

"Where are you off to?"  
Robert cursed under his breath. Johnny - nocturnal or insomniac, he didn't know - stayed up until all hours. Doing _what_ exactly, he had no idea.  
"I have something urgent I need to take care of."  
The redhead gave a doubtful frown. "At this hour?"  
"I do not have time for this, so either you shut up or come with me."

As they made their way outside and past the tennis court, Robert gave no hints as to where they were going. The helicopter waiting for them told Johnny that it wasn't somewhere nearby.

"Where-" He began, and was quickly cut off with a sharp answer.  
"Moscow."

" _Moscow?_ " He repeated, unsure he'd heard correctly over the roar of the propeller blades as they took off. "Are you insane, Robert?! What is so important there that you have to race off in the middle of the night?"  
"I have to visit someone." The knight said simply, subconsciously touching Griffolyon through his vest.

Johnny shook his head, realisation hitting him suddenly. "Oh no... _No_! You're not going to challenge _them_ , are you?"  
"I have to."  
"For that damned All Star?" He yelled in disbelief. "Why?!"  
"Because I love him!"

Jürgens Castle wasn't even visible any more as the highlander looked back at the mountain range on the dark horizon. He was lost for words... Robert loved a good battle; the thrill of victory; upholding his honour. He'd never loved the tangible - nor the common - before.

He glanced at Robert's reflection behind his own in the window. He was like a completely different person; lying back, relaxed... contented.

"Oh my god." Realisation struck him the more he studied his captain's self-satisfied aura. "You fucked him."  
Robert met Johnny's eyes in his reflection. "That is such an ugly word."  
"An ugly word for an ugly act." He snapped back, turning around. "What are you trying to do to yourself?! Do you _want_ your uncle to disown you?!"  
"If that is the price for my happiness, then yes."

"How could you...?" Johnny screwed up his face in confusion and disgust. "It's like you don't even care any more!"  
"On the contrary - I have never cared more."

"Robert..." He began awkwardly, realising whatever he said would be promptly argued with. "You're the only friend I have... I don't want you to do anything stupider than you already have."  
"Upholding my duty to protect and avenge those who I love is _not_ stupid, Johnny. You of all people should know that."

"You're going to get yourself killed - and for what? For _him_?! He's not worth it!"  
"Because he is not what _you_ would want for yourself? Who are you to decide what someone is worth to me?"  
Johnny gave a frustrated huff. "It's not like you... to do something like this, I mean."  
"I have lived my entire life under the scrutiny of my peers. I have never done anything that _I_ wanted to do before, and I must say, I have never felt as happy as I do right now. _This_ is what I want... _this_ is what I am going to have."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt."  
"You underestimate me."  
"I don't mean in battle."  
"I know what you mean, Johnny - and you _still_ underestimate me."

* * * * *

Michael's eyes cracked open at the morning light piercing through the window. It took a moment for him to place where he was; his thoughts madly wondering if something else had happened to him.

The memory of the night spent in Robert's arms made him smile. It had been so perfect, he wondered if it had been some beautifully lurid dream... he could still feel Robert's kisses; his touch; the ecstasy he had felt as they became one. But waking up in the tangled mess of Robert's luxurious bed sheets was enough to prove that it had been _very_ real.

He had not seen the master of the castle's private bedroom in daylight, and it was even more grand than the candles the night before had allowed him to see. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and stretching. And then he noticed he was alone.

"Robert?"

All of Johnny's taunts came back to him in a dizzying rush. Was Robert so ashamed of what he had done that he couldn't bear to stay in his bed a moment longer than he had to?

"Robert... are you here?"

Trygle sat on the table beside him, symbolising everything that needed to be said - 'Get out'.

His clothes, thrown across the room in searing passion, had been cleared from the floor and lay washed, ironed and folded on a chair in the corner. Once it wouldn't have worried him that the servants were aware of his promiscuity, but as he sat amongst the ruins of the night before, he felt embarrassed. He was an idiot to think Robert felt something for him - and he was doubly so for feeling something in return.

* * * * *

"The master sends his apologies for being unable to welcome you personally, Ms Tate."  
"That's quite all right. Is Michael ready to go?"  
"Yes, Ma'am." Gustav flourished his hand toward the doorway to his left. "If you would be so kind as to wait here, I will inform him of your arrival."

The butler knocked on the door of the bedroom, giving Michael warning to hurriedly wipe the tears from his eyes.  
"Yeah?" He called out, hoping against hope that it was Robert, but knowing the nobleman wouldn't knock on his own bedroom door.  
"Ms Tate is here to collect you, Sir."

"Gustav, wait!" Michael reached out to the man's retreating back. "Where's Robert?"  
"He and Master Johnny left the castle together late last night. I have not seen nor heard from either of them since."  
"...With Johnny?" It all made perfect sense. The American boy rolled his eyes upwards in an attempt to stall any outpour of emotion, before swallowing hard and bowing his head to look at Trygle, clutched tightly in his hand. "Take me to Judy and Emily."

"Michael!" If Emily had been a bigger-built girl, she would have crash-tackled her captain to the ground as she ran to hug him. "We've missed you so much!"  
"Thanks, Shorty." He returned her embrace, wishing all the while that it was Robert in his arms. "How are the guys?"  
"They've been going crazy without you... you know, they've actually started acting like civilised human beings."  
He forced a laugh, trying to imagine it. "I'll have to fix that right away."

"Are you ready, Michael?" Judy asked impatiently, glancing at her watch none too subtly.  
He nodded, letting her hurry him out the door and into the awaiting bus, with barely time to farewell Gustav and the other staff who had come to see him off.

As Judy studied his scars and hounded him about the recent row of stitches on his forehead, Michael cast a dejected look back at the castle as the bus wound its way down the mountainside, its pointed turrets barely visible over the treetops. He felt a small hand grab for his own hand and give it a comforting squeeze.

"It's good to have you back." Emily smiled as he turned to acknowledge her. "I bet you can't wait to get home and start practising again."  
"Yeah..." He strained to answer, swallowing the lump of sadness in his throat.

He knew it was going to be difficult to say goodbye. He didn't realise just _how_ difficult. Why hadn't Robert been there? Their night together had been so beautiful. Michael had never felt so loved or so special. And Robert's business personality could just walk away from that - going so far as to not even acknowledging his guest's departure?

He didn't want to cry in front of Judy, and especially not Emily; so he bowed his head and blinked back as many tears as he could, hoping his fringe and cap's brim would hide what his sniffles could not.

"Are you all right?" His team mate asked, putting her arm around him in a reassuring hug - and he couldn't help but wish it was Oliver again.  
"Yeah... it still hurts a little." He lied, not looking up.  
"We've arranged for the best doctors in America to meet us at the training facility. You're going to be okay."


	19. Chapter 19

Michael barely had time to settle back into his room before Judy had him whisked into a training routine to catch up on what he had missed. His days were long, spent calibrating his techniques with Trygle's upgrades; and his nights even longer, lying awake in his lonely bed wondering what he had done to make Robert want to hurt him so badly.

Robert never made any attempt to contact him over the following weeks, and Michael was too afraid to make the first move himself. What would one say to royalty in a situation like that?

Physically, Michael made a full recovery, claiming back his title as the PPB's finest athlete as if he had never left. Memories of his time spent in Europe were still a mixture of happiness and bitter disappointment, but immersing himself in his sport usually kept his emotions in check.

But his personal life was evidence that Robert had broken him - he had been notably celibate since his return home. The girls who threw themselves at his fame and fortune were no longer of any interest to him. Robert had loved him for _who_ he was... or so he thought. And he couldn't go back to the empty life of pleasure he'd once enjoyed, for the lack of not knowing anything else.

The lure of Oliver's unforgettable phone number was there every time he opened his bedside drawer, but contact with _any_ of the Majestics would have upset him.

He was certain the French boy would be a good lay - no, a _fantastic_ lay - but he couldn't bring himself to make the call. He would be thinking of Robert the entire time, and it wouldn't have been fair to Oliver, nor to Robert... nor to himself.

* * * * *

There were hushed whispers from the students at the PPB's training facility as the pair of boys were hurried through to the directors' suite. The taller of the two kept his head high, not acknowledging any of the attention, whilst the other winked at the girls who swooned at his Latin charms as he passed.

Why were two of the Majestics making a visit to the home of the All Starz? By the end of the day, there would be so many rumours going around it would be difficult to tell what was truth and what was not.

"Robert? Enrique? What a surprise!" Judy greeted the taller boy with a formal handshake. "What brings you here?"  
Robert took a breath, but he could not summon the words. His blonde friend slapped him on the shoulder and answered for him.  
"We're here to see how Michael's doing."  
Judy nodded, pleased with the idea. "He's in the middle of practise right now, but you're welcome to watch."

She lead the pair past several security devices, down many corridors, and finally to a booth which overlooked the training room. Robert scoured the group of people below, catching sight of Emily's familiar orange hair first, and then... beautiful burgundy.

Michael was parading around the dish with his hands in the air and a huge grin on his face - obviously the winner of the match.  
"That wasn't fair, Michael!" The small girl yelled, thrusting her hand out and pointing at the smug victor.  
"So bite me, Squirt."  
"Uh!" She let out an offended gasp. "Judy!"

"Michael!" Judy cautioned him from her microphone, making Robert madly search for something to hide behind in case he looked up.  
Too caught up in his own ego, the All Starz' captain kept his back to his audience and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Yeah, yeah... whatever."

Switching the amplifying system off for a moment, Judy turned around to address her visitors once more. "As you can see, he's made a full recovery. Since the match is over, did you want to go down and talk to him?"

"Sure!"  
Robert elbowed Enrique in the ribs in an attempt to void his enthusiastic answer. "No."

A clean cut. No regrets. If he were to talk to the boy again... perhaps even get so close he could touch him again, every feeling he'd tried so hard to suppress would come rushing back. He'd known love, and it had been a nice experience. But the time for love was over, and life proceeded as usual for the knight.

The All Star was back to his old self, and Robert didn't want to take that away from him. It was the moment, the castle, something... that had made the two so perfect for each other. And now it was gone. Michael had his true love back - his sport.

"Judy?" Robert asked as he and Enrique were shown out. "Would you give these to Michael for me?"  
Reaching into his pocket, he placed several broken attack ring pieces in the woman's outstretched hand. She looked at them with a frown of confusion, but agreed to pass them on.

* * * * *

Half an hour break, then back to more training. Michael sighed as he made his way down the hallway, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. He could hear the footsteps of someone behind him, getting faster to catch up to him, but chose to keep walking.

A moment later, Eddy had slung his arm around the shorter boy's shoulders.  
"Mikey, you up for lunch? They've got that new burger Steve's been talking about all week."  
"Yeah, I guess so." He tried to sound enthusiastic, but found himself wishing for some of Oliver's cooking instead.

A pair of students passed them, gossiping excitedly.  
"Did you hear about the Majestics?"  
"I know! I wonder what's going on?!"

"What about the Majestics?" Michael arm lashed out, grabbing the closest student by the shoulder, and pushing him against the wall as he demanded an answer.  
The terrified boy could barely stutter as he explained that he had heard Robert and Enrique had been seen on the premises earlier.  
"When? Are they still here?!"

"Whoa... calm down." Eddy pulled his captain away from the boy. "If they want to challenge us, we'll have no problem beating them."  
"I- I don't know if they're still here. I don't even know if they _were_ here - it's just a rumour."  
Michael turned to Eddy. "Where's Judy?"  
The basketball player shrugged. "Come on, Steve's waiting for us."  
"Look, I'm going to have to cancel lunch - go ahead without me."

"You're cancelling the greatest burger _ever_ for some Eurotrash?! What's got into you, Michael? You used to be cool."  
His captain frowned. "They're not trash."  
And before Eddy could retaliate, Michael had bolted back down the hallway to where he had last seen his coach.

He didn't care that Eddy would probably relay the entire event to Steven over what would have once been a great lunch. All that mattered was finding out what Robert was up to.

"Yes, he was here. And no, he made it quite clear that he didn't want to talk to you..." Judy simply answered her student's barrage of disjointed questions without even looking up from her paperwork. "...I don't know where he is staying, but Enrique was very keen to see your comeback game tomorrow, so I should imagine they will be in the country for at least another day. Is this going anywhere, Michael? I'm very busy."  
"No, I guess it's not..." The disheartened boy turned to leave. Why wouldn't they want to talk to him?

"Oh, but Robert did ask me to give you something. It was very strange." She paused to think for a moment, as if she had misplaced the bizarre gift, before reaching into her desk's top drawer and holding out the attack ring pieces to Michael.

He stared at them in awe, understanding their meaning right away - Robert had avenged his loss to the Demolition Boys.

* * * * *

"Hey, Robert! Wake up!"  
The knight heard Enrique yelling from their luxury hotel suite's doorway, but rolled over and pulled his blankets tighter around himself. "Go away."

Why he had let his friend talk him into coming to America still puzzled him. He knew seeing Michael again would only upset him, and yet he had not only caught a flight to the boy's home country, but had visited the All Starz' research facility. He'd never imagined himself a masochist before, but even as he lay there, he was thinking about returning to the centre and stealing glimpses from the booth above the training room of what he could not have... of what he once had, and lost.

"I've got something you _might_ want to take a look at." Enrique almost sang the temptation. Before Robert could answer, he'd jumped onto his captain's bed, waving two tickets in front of his face. "You up for a baseball game this afternoon?"

By his level of excitement, Robert knew it had to be one of Michael's games. His aching heart urged him to say no, but he was reminded of the promise he had made to the boy what seemed like forever ago. He promised he would watch him play.

* * * * *

The familiar atmosphere felt good, but Michael's mind was back in Europe. The noise of the crowd was nowhere near as supportive as Oliver's one-man cheer squad. And the other team... he couldn't even remember the captain's name, when it had been so easy to call out to Enrique during their little game.

"Michael?"  
His eyes were watching the dirt at his feet blur into nothing, and the more he stared, the more it confused him... he didn't want to be there. He wanted to be with Robert. And if that meant giving up his career, he didn't care. There were more important things in life than sport.

In his clenched fist he held a broken piece of Tala's Wolborg - a gift from Robert. Judy had given it to him earlier, and Michael had not known whether he was ecstatic that his knight in shining armour would do something like that for him, or whether he was furious that Robert didn't deliver the proof to him personally.

"Michael, you're up."

The boy jumped at being brought back into the present. Pocketing the attack ring piece, he rose to his feet, amidst the seemingly silent cheers of his fans.

It was his come-back game - he was the centre of attention. It was everything he had ever wanted. And now that he had it, it seemed so petty, so insignificant.

Surveying the crowd, he gave them a forced smile and wave. Subconsciously he was looking for Enrique, but hoping that he wouldn't find him.

Blonde... no.  
Blonde... no.  
Blonde... yes!

And purple beside him.

The match didn't matter any more. Robert was there!

He bolted across the field, his eyes never leaving Robert's. The knight hurried out of his seat to meet him half way. And in front of shocked onlookers, Michael threw his arms around Robert's neck and kissed him with all the passion he could muster from the long weeks without him. The world stopped as their lips met. Neither cared as whispers became a loud roar throughout entire audience.

"I thought I'd never see you again." Michael slurred, not wanting to end the kiss.  
"I promised I would watch you play."  
"I couldn't possibly play now." Came the reply as Robert tightened his embrace.  
Their bodies ground together, hungry for each other.  
"Michael... I was a fool to let you go. I- I love you so much."

The American whimpered under the duel seduction of Robert's body hard against his and the words he never thought he would ever hear from anyone. "I love you, too."

"Hey, Robert! You're ruining the game!" Enrique shouted from the stand.  
His captain looked around, Michael's arms still tight around his neck. "So bite me, Squirt."


End file.
